Duo. 15, 1894.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
618 
could be in chasing the man, but supposed it to be some 
sudden fancy that had possessed him to do such a thing. 
"Why didn't you head him off ?" were the words that 
first greeted me. 
"What do you want that man for?" I asked. "Didn't 
you know there was a law against kidnapping?" 
"Now, this here ain't no kid. He's a black goat, and 
there's no law in Texas against goat nabbing. I want to 
know about this town !" and addressing the negro he con- 
tinued: "Where's all the folks that live about here? 
What've you done with them?" 
"Dey no be here any mo'. Dey dun gone up de kreak." 
"What 'd they go up the creek for, you hound?" 
"De houses all dun blown down, massa, an' de county 
seat kerredup dar, too." 
"Why didn't you stop when I told you to." 
"Good Lawd, I nebber seed de likes. I thought you 
"No, I was taking your picture in my mind though, 
and if I remember aright, Absalom wasn't far from your 
legs all the time. Didn't you turn around three or four 
times and kick him away from you? If you didn't, what 
made the dog yell the way he did?" 
"He yelled when he caught the nigger's throat, and 
that yell meant Tve got him' just as plain to me as 
though he could talk. He knows niggers as well as I do, 
and I know them as well as ducks." 
"Where is the man now?" I asked. 
He's gone back into his hole, I guess. I gave him two 
minutes to get across the stream and out of sight before 
I'd sic the dog on him, and if you ever saw a black streak 
streak off, 'twas him after he saw that dog's eyes and 
teeth. Absalom was just dying to get another grab at 
his throttle, and I had to hold him till the cuss 'd gone." 
Mr. Priour finished his praise of the dog and the mend- 
Luck in Maine Woods. 
Lebanon, N. H., Dec. 6.— Charley Marston, with his 
friend, Dr. House, of Boston, of Nova Scotia moose fame, 
returned last Monday from Holeb Lake, Maine (Birch 
Island camp). They were quite successful. Our Charley 
was always a lucky dog, and he kept up his reputation 
this time, as he only hunted about two and a half days; 
got three shots and killed two nice bucks and a doe. The 
Doctor had to be contented with one buck. Not many 
foxes killed about here as yet, and only one deer that I 
have heard of. Mascont. 
Caribou Abundant in Quebec. 
Portneuf, P. Q., Dec. 5. — My woodsman writes: II y 
a de caribou cette annee comme il n'y en a jamais eu" 
The Quebec Chronicle of to-day says: "Messrs. John D. 
Gilmour of Quebec, and Allan Gilmour of Ottawa, have 
returned from a most successful hunt. The sport was 
very good throughout, and a few fine heads were brought 
home. The hunters experienced rather severe weather. 
They report caribou very plentiful. " G. de Montatjban. 
Down Earnegat Way. 
^Barnegat, N. J., Dec. 9. — Gunning at Barnegat has 
been very ipoor, but there are thousands of ducks and 
geese; and as soon as we have a little rough weather 
there^wiiybe^greatjinany killed. Wm. C. Inman. 
Chickens, Ducks and Geese 
are going to be very plentiful along the line of the Northern Pacific 
this season. Make your arrangements to go and get some of them. 
Send Charles S. Fee, General Passenger Agent, St. Paul, Minn., 4 cents 
in stamps for "Natural Game Preserves of the Northwest."— Adv. 
A WEEK WITH THE GRAYLING. 
In Two Parts.— Part One. 
I have long desired to make the acquaintance of the 
Michigan grayling, and when last summer I was given 
the opportunity of spending a week in camp upon the 
banks of one of the few streams which still afford tolerable 
sport to the patient and skillful angler, I was very glad to 
improve it. Under the tutelage of an old and accom- 
plished grayling fisher, I learned much of the habits of 
the fish and became fairly proficient in its capture with 
the artificial fly. That I do not name this stream nor 
give its exact location is not because I begrudge its treas- 
ures to any true lover of the gentle art, but because I 
would protect it from the army of tourists who annually 
overrun the trout and grayling streams of lower Michi- 
gan. Experience has shown me that these last are usually 
"fishers for count," men who care only for results, and 
who are not particular as to the means. For such gentry 
I have not a particle of sympathy, and I would not know- 
ingly give them information as to good fishing grounds. 
To them and to the "mossbacks" is largely due the 
alarming diminution of the grayling. The average 
"mossback" considers that the Creator intended the den- 
izens of forest and stream for his particular benefit; that 
he had a perfect right to capture them when and where 
and how he pleases, in season and out, by mean fair or 
foul. As a rule, he has no conception of the meaning of 
the word sport. His only idea is to take fish or game in 
quantities sufficient to supply his own wants or sell in the 
market for enough to pay for his own time. Unfortun- 
ately for the poor fish, the grayling streams run through 
a very wild country, and the "mossback" may use net, 
lime or dynamite without fear of detection and punish- 
ment. 
One fine morning in June, just as a score of mill 
whistles announced to the weary night crews that the 
hour of their release from their labors had arrived, a 
party of fishermen left a certain city which is famous for 
its large production of lumber and salt, bound for one of 
the larger tributaries of the Manistee River, to fish for 
grayling. The party consisted of Messrs. Arnold, Wesson, 
Ryan and myself. The two first named were residents of 
the city, while Ryan was a college student. 
The necessaries for a protracted stay in camp were 
piled into a strong open wagon, and a canvas cover over 
all protected the load from rain and dust. There was so 
much of the duffle that the wagon seats had to be re- 
moved, and we perched ourselves as best we could on the 
top of the load. The motive power of the outfit consisted 
of a pair of tall, raw-boned, Roman-nosed equines, which 
had seen much service in the pineries and showed the 
effects of it. Maud S. had but one eye, a well developed 
case of grease-heel and a bone spavin. Rarus had divers 
and numerous affections of the extremities, and a most 
distressing wheeze, the technical name for which is, I 
believe, broken-wind. They were hard-mouthed brutes, 
with hides as tough as that of a rhinoceros, and always 
hungry; always reaching out for a mouthful of leaves or 
of any unwary mortal who passed near their heads with- 
out keeping his weather eye out for them. As soon as 
they appeared at Mr. Arnold's house, where all hands had 
gathered for the departure, we congratulated him on his 
judgment in selecting that team. 
Now Arnold had been foreman in a sawmill for several 
years and had a pretty fair command of the emphatic 
part of the English language. I would not have the 
reader think that he swore, when he saw the horses 
which the liveryman had sent up, because no Michigan 
lumberman ever swears. He simply let off a few verbal 
torpedoes! He was for ordering the team taken back to 
the stable at once, declaring that he had been promised a 
good pair of horses, but, as we were all anxious to get 
started, we prevailed upon him to take what we had and 
make the best of it. We found one good point about 
that team, yes, two; their hire was cheap, and there was 
no danger of their bolting and spilling us and our effects 
among the stumps by the wayside. 
Once fairly clear of the city, we plunged into the 
dreary old pine chopping, which came right up to its 
back doors. With a few variations, they were with us 
to our journey's end. The road was fetlock deep in sand 
and the horses' shambling gait raised clouds of dust, 
which filled the eyes and nearly choked -us. It grew 
very hot, too, as the sun sailed higher in the clear sky, 
and not a breath of air stirred the leaves of the scrub 
oaks by the roadside. 
WANTS TO TALK TO HIM. 
"Illustrated by no special artist." 
chicken thief. Lem me go, an' I neber do dis scrape 
agin." 
"Well, the next time I tell you to stop, you stop! I'm 
from Corpus Christi!" 
"Yes, sar. I knowed you's from Corpus Christi — no 
man roun' here run like dat. Dis nigger hab long feet, 
but he no git ahead ob Corpus Christi man. I dun stop 
next time, boss, sho!" 
Turning to my partner I said: "Now you've pumped 
your man and are satisfied about the emptiness of these 
houses, let's go to camp and have some dinner. I'm 
hungry." 
I took a long walk down the creek. The heavy timber 
entwined with many vines reminded me of the San 
Antonio Bottoms. The further I went the more I 
increased my regard for the tall aged trees which, hung 
with sheets of the ever-present whitish moss, seemed to 
stand about like so many hoary monuments to time. 
Their majestic size, their rough and fissured bark, and 
their twisted and pendant branches, all bore evidence of 
the many changes of season, the countless storms, and 
the frequent violent shocks they had known. The air 
was calm, and but for the hum of thousands of mosqitoes' 
wings, the swamp was as silent as a tomb. During my 
long walk I had seen but two or three birds, and these 
few were very timid, flying at my approach. 
Everything in the vicinity shared in the gloom thrown 
about the deserted village, and, with few exceptions, 
animal life must have migrated with the people who once 
occupied the town. We had been eight or ten days at a 
time without seeing any human being but ourselves, but 
I had not known a place so sepulchral as this, where even 
the leaves seemed reluctant to flutter, and as I picked my 
way through the over-abundant undergrowth, bearing 
only the tread of my own feet, I thought of myself as 
trespassing upon some forbidden soil. 
Emerging from the wood I found Mr. Priour seated 
upon the ground, busily engaged in repairing the rents 
Absolom had made in his trousers. We often found it 
necessary to mend our clothing, and generally employed 
a darning needle threaded with twine, while for patches 
we used empty grain sacks or anything else we could find. 
My own trousers had been patched, patched and quilted 
until the material of which they were originally made 
was completely hidden from view, and the stripes which 
once adorned my partner's nether garments were one by 
one being buried in rags of other and less brilliant hue. 
"Have you been out with your gun?" I asked. 
"Yes, I went up the stream a little, but there wa'n't a 
bird to be seen, and I thought I'd mend my pants where 
they caught on that nail." 
"What nail?" I asked. 
"What nail? Why, a nail in that dog-on'd nigger house 
across here; didn't you hear them tear when I went 
through the hole that coon butted?" 
"No, I thought Absalom tore your pants." 
"You thought Absalom tore them? Well, he didn't! 
How could he tear my pants when he had hold of that 
kicking coon?" 
"I didn't know he touched the'fellow, I thought I saw 
him at your heels all the time." 
"Well, you didn't! He wa'n't anywhere about my 
heels. He was helping his master, and I'd never caught 
the black hog in a week, if the dog hadn't turned to and 
bent on with me, which was enough sigh t more'n you 
done. What was you doing all that time anyway! You 
stood as still as you was having pictures taken. Was 
there anybody around there taking them? Hal ha! ha!" 
ing of his trousers at the same time, and he felt proud of 
the style in which each had been done. 
"I tell you!" he shouted. "There's a patch that's put 
on to stay, and looks a blame sight better than it did 
before that fool of a dog — that fool of a dogged nail 
caught in it up there! I'm a patcher!" and he tri- 
umphantly waved his breeches aloft before getting into 
them again. 
MICHIGAN DEER. 
Manistee, Mich., Dec. 3.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
The deer hunting season has come and gone. In the 
Lower Peninsula it begins Nov. 5, and closes Nov. 25; 
but the hunter is allowed ten days for "getting his game 
out of the woods." This means, with most hunters, just 
ten days more for getting game to bring out. 
The season which has just closed has been a peculiar 
one from the fact that it was ushered in by a heavy snow 
Btorm which piled up the snow to the depth of a foot or 
more. There has very seldom been any snow during the 
deer hunting season; sometimes an inch or two during the 
last few days. This year it was present, in more or less 
quantities, during the whole season. For the first week 
the wind blew a gale, driving the frozen snow into the 
hunter's eyes, obscuring his view and making things 
decidedly unpleasant for him in camp as well as in the 
field. The snow was of great assistance to the still-hunters; 
and those who had the courage to face the wintry blasts 
met with pretty fair success. On the whole, the deer 
hunting has not been as good as usual this season. With 
the snow to help in tracking the deer, more should have 
been killed than for some years. Our party had about 
its customary luck, but other parties hung up only half 
their previous bags. Some were completely "skunked." 
All the old hands are puzzled to account for the shortness 
of their counts. 
Nearly all the deer killed were bucks, very few being 
does or fawns. As .the forest fires last summer were un- 
usually extensive and severe, owing to the long drought, 
some think that the does and fawns were overtaken and 
destroyed, to some extent, while the bucks, which were 
growing their horns at that time in the dense swamps 
which were too wet to burn, escaped. I am inclined to 
think, however, that the stormy weather drove the does 
and fawns into the very thickest cover, where they 
remained until the weather moderated toward the close 
of the season. The fact that many deer were seen on the 
last days where very few had been found previously, 
seems to bear out my theory. 
The bucks, being stronger and under the influence of 
the passions which sway them at that time of the year, 
moved about more freely and were gathered in. Several 
bucks were killed that had "swelled necks," and a rutting 
buck with a "swelled neck" has as little caution as some 
men with "swelled heads." 
In passing by one of our city meat markets one day I 
saw hanging at the door a buck whose horns, seemingly 
fully grown, still retained their velvet. It was perfectly 
dry, but smooth and unbroken. I have never seen nor 
heard of a buck carrying horns in the velvet so late in 
the season, and many old hunters declare that they have 
not. I think the buck must have been troubled with that 
"tired feeling." 
Speaking of this freak reminds me that Mr. Michael 
Gallagher, of this city, killed a doe last season which 
carried a small pair of hornB. I was incredulous when 
told about it, but so many reputable persons saw the deer 
and vouch for its being a doe with horns that I am com- 
pelled to believe it. F. A. M. 
