FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 1, 1894. 
he fyarfsnimt (EourisL 
LOVE'S EYES. 
I watch the golden eagle's flight 
Up o'er the Rockies' clefted caves, 
Now big, now fading from my sight, 
While slow, below the wild grouBe laves 
With faltering wing, earth's meadow waves. 
And great souls have with wing-tips kissed 
The height that groundlings shrink to dare; 
For swinging out abo'-e earth's inist, 
Keen visioned, in a purer air, 
They catch a sight of heaven there. 
So soaring toward life's mountain heights 
I'd pierce the mists with eager will, 
But here in low and fitful flights, 
I lave the prairie field-waves still; 
My breast unswelled, my vision ill. 
Yet the wild grouse that laves the lea, 
Speaks out clear-tongued to all who plod, 
Ee'n thus, "'Tis all as it should be, 
As well as though winged Mercury shod, 
I follow out the will of God. 
"And though I scale no dizzy cloud, 
Nor trace the gloaming's rainbow, streak, 
The mists of earth can ne'er o'er-shroud 
The prairies' grassy nest I seek, 
Nor young that lifts its hungry beak. 
"I'll make my quest no bliss-lit land, 
Up o'er the arched fields of blue 
My vision seeks the near at hand, 
In my young brood, rib-jostling crew, 
I catch a sight of heaven too." 
Clarence Pinneo, 
AFTER "LITTLE DIVIN' FOWL." 
The Second Expedition of the Skipper. 
Haying by the use of something less than a barrel of 
liniment and some painful but violent exercise, reduced 
the pain and soreness caused by the expedition after birds 
with the mule, the Skipper began to look about him 
again, intent upon going over to St. Helena Island after 
"little divin' fowl" and a nondescript called "pond 
chicken," which is very good eating, by the way. A 
pond of fresh water had been mentioned as lying in those 
parts, where teal, mallard and the "chickens" abounded, 
and was described as about 400yds. back frotn the shorej 
and easy walking. 
The weather was continuously delightful, cool and 
almost cloudless, and so clear and exhilarating was the 
air that existence seemed a perfect delight. This was too 
much for the ardent mind of the Skipper to stand, so he 
loaded shells with shot Nos, 6 and 8 and rubbed up the old 
gun, and after a careful examination of the now 
restored muscles, prepared for action. 
On this occasion the party consisted of the Skipper, 
the Architect and the same original soldier. Orders were 
given that the steam launch should be ready at six o'clock 
in the morning, and all hands were called at 5:30. Hot 
coffee, toast, fruit and enough meat to solidify the repast 
— and then the members of the expedition lighted their 
pipes and embarked. Old Bob was taken along on a 
chain to do the retrieving act, after the surface of the 
pond should be covered with dead birds. How good the 
tobacco tasted in the crisp morning twilight! "With what 
looks of pitying condescension the party regarded the 
houses of the settlement where the rest of humanity was 
still sleeping the sleep of those who care not for out-of- 
door sport! .What hopes of full bags of fowl placed in 
that part of the old shooting coat which gives the suc- 
cessful Nimrod the appearance of a hunchback! Well, 
the brethren of the rod and gun all know how it is them- 
selves, and man's noblest sport and recreation has so 
many delights connected with it, that it is of no use to 
recapitulate them for the dear old Forest and Stream, 
for has not some of the noblest narrative literature of 
these literary days been spread upon its fair pages? 
In the story of the mule expedition I have described the 
Skipper, the mule and the soldier. On this present trip a 
new character comes on the scene. The Architect was 
cut out for a light-weight among the sprinters. He has 
been too busy these latter years to get much outing, but 
he still possesses that ardent soul which loves the sport 
itself, and so he was on hand in great shape, armed with 
some sort of a magazine gun. single barrel, 10-gauge, 
warranted to be good for anything from murder down. 
With ardent hopo and high spirits the party embarked, 
towing a batteau, and went swiftly down the river with 
the ebb tide. Soon after the start the soldier seemed to 
be much troubled. His mind was evidently working on 
some hard problem. At last out it came. With much 
slaughter of the vernacular and a plentiful interspersion, 
so to speak, of blankety -blanks, it seems that he had 
just discovered that blank, etc., pot-hunter, who had 
heard of the Skipper's intended trip, had preceded the 
party by twenty-four hours, and returned laden with 
great spoil. 
The Skipper regarded the Architect steadfastly, and 
that officer returned the stare. * Meanwh ; le the soldier 
kept on with his godless litany in several languages, the 
most of which might be expressed by what is generally 
known as "anathema marantha," or words to that effect, 
whatever it may mean. However, the weather was too 
good and the air too inspiring for men to remain mad 
long, although I am bound to record that all through the 
expedition the soldier's face would occassionally harden 
and his eyes would snap, and fearful mutterings in 
English and German would issue from his lips. At last, 
some time before sunrise the party reached the landing 
place and disembarked ; n the batteau, leaving the old dog 
Bob on the chain in the boat, until he should be required. 
A hard level sand beach to land on and a little flock of 
shore birds rendered up six to the Skipper's gun, and were 
placed in the big pocket as a nest egg. Then clambering 
up the bank the "easy walking, 400yds," was encoun- 
tered. No accurate measurements were taken, but the 
Skipper asserts emj>hatically that it was about a mile 
going to the pond and about two miles coming back. 
When the omnipresent Southern darky cultivates the 
succulent sweet potato on these Sea Islands, he divides 
the land into ranges of mountains and deep valleys. The 
ranges of mountains contain the potatoes and the valleys 
contain pitfalls, tangled briers, rattlesnakes, water- 
moccasins and oath-producing things too numerous to 
mention. Traveling over them is somewhat desultory, 
but the Skipper asserts that while the Architect was gaily 
skimming over the ground like a swallow, he himself 
was pitching and plunging like a Dutch galliot in the 
North Sea or an unhappy Democrat after the recent 
fraternal contest at the polls. This peculiar agriculture 
also has another effect upon men of obese tendencies. It 
takes about 200yds. of lineal distance and stretches it into 
about two miles of crooked distance. After floundering 
along about a mile, seemingly, the soldier pointed off to 
the left, and at the distance of about half a mils, showed 
a bushy puddle which he called a pond! Cautioned not to 
talk but to approach as noiselessly as possible, the Skipper 
breathing heavily, crawled up behind some bushes and 
with a snap shot killed a "chicken." 
Then the party distributed itself about the pond and in 
hidden stands waited. The gentle pond chickens are 
heard in the bushes calling to each other and splashing 
about. The Architect from a small grass island was 
heard, like the enemy at the burial of Sir John Moore — 
"sullenly firing." The soldier crept about in the high 
grass, playing the changes on his "cuss" tune. The Skip- 
per had brought a box to sit on, and patiently waited for 
the game to swim within range, meanwhile chewing the 
fragrant "cud" of pepsin gum. The sun mounted slowly 
in the east, but no "little divin' fowl" flew in, and the 
passing hours seemed freighted with monotony. Was 
this sport? Yes, for the Skipper had recovered his lost 
wind, the face of nature was like a picture, the glorious 
air of the advancing morning was health and life giving, 
and faith taught the elastic spirits of the party that if no 
birds were there that morning, they having been potted 
and frightened away by the previous and impious pot- 
hunter, yet in the fullness of time other birds would 
come, other days would follow; so with swelling hearts 
and fervent hopes they all took a drink, and affirmed that 
it was not a very good day for birds anyhow. 
Old Bob swam into the mudhole and brought out the 
birds, one for the Skipper and two for the Architect, and 
the party in Indian file started for the beach. The 
ground seemed more like a permanent earthquake on the 
return than it did in going. Irreverent negroes chuckled 
at the ponderous flounderings of the Skipper. Old Bob 
filled his paws with burrs and howled dismally. At last 
the beach was reached and embarking in the waiting 
launch, the party started for home. 
While thoughtfully smoking on the return trip the 
Architect suddenly removed his pipe from his mouth and 
asked, "What day is this, anyhow? "November sixth, by 
Jupiter." Election Day! All the Democratic birds were 
paralyzed, and like the Tammany tiger, had no use for 
two good Republicans like the Skipper and the Architect. 
That settled it. It was not a good day for birds in an ex- 
clusively Democratic State. Undoubtedly in North Caro- 
lina and some, other States the sportsmen would have 
done better. 
The chicken and little beach birds were good eating, 
but the next trip of the Skipper will probably be fishing 
for sea bass. I will try to send to the Forest and Stream 
a full account of the voyage. C. H. Rockwell. 
THE FLORIDA COWBOY. 
I DO not remember ever to have seen a reference to him 
in print, yet he is a forceful and picturesque character in 
his chosen home — the wide savannas and endless reaches 
of piny woods that form the southern portion of the pen- 
insula of Florida. 
His avocation from youth to age is to care for the vast 
herds of catttle and droves of hogs that roam over that 
region. We found him an interesting figure, differing in 
some respects from his Western cousin, in other things 
very much like him. 
An introduction to him at close range occurrod one Feb- 
ruary day as we were returning from rifling a bee tree on 
the banks of Bowlegs Creek, an affluent of the Peace 
River. 
Across a "deadenin" (£. e., large open space in the piny 
woods) appeared the figure of a man on horseback round- 
ing up a herd of cattle which had evinced an inclination 
to stray off the range. The crack of his long whip and 
his musical cry of "Oooe, ooe, ooe, oooooe!" came pleas- 
antly across the interval. Catching sight of us, he left his 
employment and came riding toward us, his tough little 
pony falling into the lope — a cross between a walk and a 
trot — which is their only gait, and which will carry their 
riders over fifty miles in a day with scarcely a halt. I 
made a mental photograph of his trappings as he rode up. 
His head covering was a slate-colored sombrero with 
yrery wide brim. He wore a gray woolen shirt with red 
stripes, homespun butternut-colored breeches, and heavy 
cowhide brogans armed with cruel-looking spurs. He 
carried saddlebags — filled, as I conjectured, with pro- 
visions — a pair of blankets in a roll behind, and balanced 
on his pommel a light Marlin rifle; attached to his saddle 
leather was a short-handled whip with a rawhide lash 
nearly twenty feet long; the latter, together with their 
peculiar cry, being their only dependence in rounding up 
or controlling their cattle. The man was short and mus- 
cular, with an open, pleasant countenance, so far as 
appeared through many weeks' growth of beard, and, as 
we discovered later, was the son of one of the largest 
owners on the range. 
"Mornin'," said he, as he rode up. 
"Good morning," we responded. "What's new over 
around Bassenger?" he continued, throwing himself into 
an easy attitude, one leg over his horse's neck and the 
other crossed upon it. "Bassenger," said we, "how 
should we know; we're from the hotel. "At the Park?'' 
said he. "I allow I oughter knowed as much, but we get 
so suspicious out here on the range that when we see a 
stranger we want ter know all about him." We were 
equally curious about him, and plied him with questions 
about his peculiar craft and life, which he readily 
answered. At last he set off toward the hotel, and aa we 
drew near we met him driving a sow and her brood of 
twelve which had been troubling the hotel people for 
some days back, to their wilderness home. 
Another day, in response to a cordial invitation, we 
drove out several miles to dine with the father of this 
young man, one of the lords of the country. His house 
was one of the best to be found in this section — two 
stories in height with upper and lower galleries, and cool, 
wide halls opening upon the former at either end. Honey 
suckle, Cherokee roses, and other climbing plants quite 
covered the structure with bloom and greenery, and as it 
stood at the head of a gentle slope just where the piney 
woods gave place to the broad prairies of the Okeechobee 
country, the piazzas commanded a wide, and to our mind 
a novel and beautiful view. On the south lay an illimit- 
able prairie covered with coarse grass but treeless; nearer 
us were round and oval-shaped islands of pines like out- 
posts of the forest in its march upon the plain; back of 
us the serried ranks of yellow pine, a dead wall of green, 
yet as one approached showing long-drawn aisles and 
open cathedral-like spaces. The Major received us 
kindly, and after a substantial dinner, a smoke on the 
leaf-hung balcony, and a saunter through his fine orchard 
of 40-year-old seedling orange, lemon and grape fruit 
trees, invited us to go for a ride over the range. 
"I am sorry I can't show you a round up," he remarked, 
as we mounted, "but they only take place in the spring 
when the flies have driven the stock out of the woods into 
the open plain. I can show you the pens, however, and 
give you some idea of the manner of conducting the busi- 
ness. 
"Florida is not generally regarded as a stock raising 
country," he continued, "yet there are nearly 500,000 
head of' cattle roaming over these vast savannas, besides 
thousands of hogs, and a lesser number of sheep. Before 
the war our market was Cuba almost exclusively; now 
we ship to Jacksonville. The grasses of Florida are not 
so fine and nutritious as those of the West, but then we 
have neither cold nor blizzards to guard against. The 
land is owned almost entirely by large holders, the 
National or State governments, railway and canal copor- 
ations under grant of the State, with a few cattle kings. 
By law and by immemorial usage uninclosed-land is open 
to the use of all, so that tho only way an owner can enjoy 
exclusive possession is to fence it. Thesa great tracts of 
common land are the opportunity of the stockman. He 
has only to turn a parent herd of cattle loose on the prairie 
and grow rich on the increase; theoretically, that is. 
Practically the herds are subject to certain dangers which 
materially lessen the stockmen's profits. One of them is 
the attacks of wild beasts, another is the tendency of the 
cattle to get mired in the water holes, "cutthroats" we 
call them, where they go to drink and which abound 
hereabouts. But here are our corrals." 
Along lane formed by two post and rail fences led up to 
a large pen of perhaps half an acre in area, on one side of 
which was a gate opening into a much smaller pen. 
"In the spring, as I said," continued my frieni, "the 
cattle bunch on the prairie and are then driven into this 
pen, the young calves are bi-anded and all turned loose 
again. The process requires several days' hard riding in 
order to get the herds of one owner together, and those 
of other owners excluded, and the scene at the corrals 
with a score or more of cowboys sorting out the increase 
and getting them into the inner pen for branding is an 
animated one. At night the camp-fires flare up and the 
weary stockmen stretch themselves to rest with no cover- 
ing but the sky." 
Later in th« season it was our fortune to share the fire 
and sod bed of a camp of cowboys. 
' 'Do the cattle ever turn on you?" I asked a veteran 
who favored me with some reminiscences. 
"I never had one but once," he replied; "that was soon 
after the war, when there were a number of old and 
savage bulls on the range. You see in ordinary times we 
aim to sell the bulls off before they get old and ugly, but 
during the war they were left to themselves. A party of 
us camped one night on government land in the saw- 
grass region, below Okeechobee. A$ night fell I heard 
an old bull bellowing off to south'ard and said to my 
partner, 'If he smells us he'll charge us sure.' He laughed, 
said he 'lowed not, and went to sleep. An hour after 
that bull with an awful bellow charged dead on the 
camp. Everybody but me was took panicky and ran for 
the trees. I cut my horse's halter and tethered him close 
alongside, jumped to saddle and spurred toward the bull. 
He charged me, but I dropped him easily with a ball 
from my Marlin, the boys came down from the trees and 
we all went to sleep again. The bull steaks next mornin' 
fur breakfast was pretty tough, though " 
"Do the alligators trouble you much?" I asked, seeing 
that the old fellow was in a reminiscent mood — as a rule 
the cowboy is not talkative. 
"It is rare that a 'gator will attack a full grown critter," 
he replied, "but they'll seize calves and yearlings, and 
they are just naturally death on hogs, likewise on dogs. 
They lie in wait for hogs in the cut-throats, and when the 
poor brutes comes to drink, swish comes their powerful 
tail, knocking the beast into the water where their jaws 
close on 'em in a twinkling. As to dogs, you can't get a 
Florida bred dog to go into the water for love or money. 
"I saw a light onct to the death, between our old bull 
and a 'gator It was on Peace River, years ago when that 
stream was the paradise of 'gators. The 'gator caught the 
bull by the nose as he went down to drink, and there was 
a powerful scrimmage there for a few minutes. The 'gator 
though had the aid of his friends arjd relations, a score of 
whom were lying in wait for a dinner. One of them 
brought his tail around with a blow that swept the bull 
into the water with every leg broken, and after that he 
was only a feast for the hungry varmints." 
Florida cowboys have few pleasures — "bear drives," 
shooting matches, horse racing and dancing parties are 
the principal ones. The two last named are the favorites. 
The colony of Englishmen who have settled in and about 
Fort Meade have a race track near that village, and every 
fall give a several days' racing tournament at which the 
rules and conditions of the great English race tracks 
obtain. It is open to all; the cowboys attend in force, 
and as saddle horses only are admitted they not unfre- 
quently carry off the honors. 
The dance is the favorite and only form of social amuse- 
ment. It is not unusual for the beaux and belles to ride 
twenty miles through the forest to engage in it. The 
square dance is the only one practiced, and I was sur- 
prised to find that the order of the dance and directions 
of the master were almost identical with those witnessed 
among the mountaineers of the Adirondacks. 
Much corn whisky flows at these gatherings, and they 
not (infrequently end in a free fight. 
Charles Burr Todd. 
