106 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Feb. 9, 1895. 
the road, and one of the party should have a weapon 
handy. In such event just grab the gun with left hand, 
catch tip of right-hand mitten between your teeth and 
jerk it off, in a second you are all ready for a shot you 
could not have secured if you had had to fool with a pair 
of thick, clumsy gloves. Besides gloves ai*e cold. 
Frequently the harness gives out, or for some reason 
you want to use your fingers freely. The thin pair of 
gloves recommended enables you to' do so without chap- 
ping your hands, and with this equipment your hands 
are always warm and flexible, and you can do in a mo- 
ment what would be almost impossible with stiff, be- 
numbed fingers. 
Never, under any circumstances whatever, go out in 
the prairie without a compass, and plenty of matches in 
a waterproof box; and be sure to always have these on 
your person. Prairie fires are most dangerous in fall and 
winter, and the matches will be needed at a time when 
stores are not convenient. A little ingenuity will enable 
the duck hunter to utilize the lantern suggestion in his 
blind, greatly to his comfort. 
For rough, rainy weather, or in extreme cold weather, 
the common cowboy's "slicker" beats any rubber coat or 
mackintosh ever made. 
If you are fond of "a wee drop," one caution — never 
while on a long, cold ride, indulge in whiskey — en route. 
A tipple before starting might be permissible, perhaps, 
and quantum suff. after arrival, but you will keep warm- 
er if you leave it alone while on the trail. 
Algodon. 
A DAY IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA- 
What a faithful friend to the man of clear conscience 
is memory, for it lays before him such pleasant recol- 
lections, and I think this particularly true of the man 
who lores his gun. The day before Christmas I found 
myself in the lovely city of Los Angeles, with nothing 
to do. To the active man far from home this is some- 
times a sad state of affairs. I found it was likely to be 
so with me unless I found something in the way of 
amusement. I was certainly very tired of walking up 
and down the street, looking at dolls in the show win- 
dows. A day or two before this my friend, Mr. Rice, 
with a genuine Massachusetts twang to his voice, had 
said there were plenty of quail over at Sierra Madra, 
where he was staying, and that he would like me to try 
and help him get some. He had tried, but found them 
very flighty. Recalling this cordial invitation, I imme- 
diately telephoned Mr. Rice I would be with him in 
just one hour and a half, forgetting at the time that I 
had to borrow a gun from one of the most charming 
hotel clerks in the world, hire a team, change my 
clothes and drive fourteen miles. However, the fever 
was on and we made it in just two hours. We reached 
Sierra Madra in great spirits. The livery horses didn't 
and why shouldn't we? The way was for fourteen miles 
along a road of palms, green hedges, flowers and orange 
orchards all surrounded by snow capped mountains glis- 
tening under the rays of what would be an early May 
sun in New York State. Past the Hotel Raymond at 
the peak of an immense mound of every kind of flowers 
in full bloom, through Pasadena, with its lovely ave- 
nues of homes and sunshine, with the prospect of quail 
further on, to say nothing of our most modern host at 
the villa. Surely this sort of a drive on this sort of 
morning with a hammerless gun, under the seat, was 
inspiring, and the fever grew worse. 
Half an hour later we began to shoot, and that, too, 
within half a mile of the villa. We had no dog. No 
use taking a dog along. You can find plenty of quail 
without oue and not lose any time looking for such 
animals. I am quite sure a dog would need an experi- 
enced and faithful guide to keep tab on him in that 
brush on those foothills. We had plenty of shooting, if 
we didn't get many birds, and a splendid day's outing. 
These California quail are beautiful birds, of a bluish 
color, with remarkably rich brown marking on the 
breast and the male bird carries a plume of blue black 
on his head. 
Mr. Rice claims that there is no bird on earth that 
can get up and get away as quickly as these blue quail. 
I asked him if he ever tackled any of those brown three- 
year-olds in North Carolina. He hadn't, and I thought 
not, or he wouldn't kick so much at the gait of these 
Western toughs. 
Now, most hunting trips, if they are hunting trips of 
the right sort, have a moral as well as a healthful bene- 
fit. This one was not without one or both that day. 
Mr. Rice killed his first bird. This may seem strange, 
but I assure you he had hunted there before this day 
many times, and he had not only hunted them, but 
actually fed one covey night and morning on the 
wheat from his neighbor's barn and sat under an orange 
tree eating last year's oranges, watching them feed. 
What Mr. Rice needs is five expert traps and five 
thousand clay pigeons. Jenkins' standing with the guests 
of the Hallenbeck and with his [family was never so 
high. Three quail and I have forgotten how many 
cottontails were proudly displayed on the counters, 
while Charles called "front" with a vigor and a voice 
before unknown to him. And I — well I staved off a 
spell of the blues ; witnessed how heaven itself has en- 
dowed that wonderful country with a perfect health- 
giving climate, a place where the tried, tired and weary 
can find rest, out of the land of snow and darkness into 
the land of sunshine and flowers, a veritable garden of 
loveliness. And my birds — well, I trust, sincerely trust, 
that Mrs. Doan enjoyed the brace I sent her. If she 
enjoyed them with the same relish I did her Christmas 
dinner next day all is even, and I shall ever be thankful 
that I killed that particular pair of birds. 
^But farewell Los Angeles and Southern Califorina. I 
carry away an impression of your fairness and fitness 
that will last me a lifetime, even though I should never 
visit you again. I shall go there, however, if I have to 
walk. The snow of Montana is now dritfing under the 
sash of my window and my ardor has cooled off. The 
trunk must be packed and that same faithful memory 
calls roe to duty where a shotgun is not needed. But I 
sometimes think a good stout club would come in handy. 
Needless to say, I am not journeying for pleasure, but in 
the capacity of commercial traveler. THOS. ELMER. 
Butte, Mont. , Jan. 13. 
BUTCHERS RED AND BUTCHERS 
WHITE. 
It seems that there is yet some big game in the Far 
West. Mr. Charley Hardy, of Auburndale, Mass., but 
now at Colorado College, Colorado Springs, is an enthu- 
siast with the rod and rifle, and has done considerable 
hunting in the Eastern States. But his health not being 
sufficiently robust for the East, he has been obliged to leave 
Harvard for a college in the high altitudes of Colorado. 
He writes a business friend here who also loves hunting 
and fishing, a letter from which the following extracts 
are made: ' T was very glad to hear that your trip in 
Maine was a success. The game must be increasing, if 
you saw so many deer in so short a trip, and I imagine it 
must be due to the vigorous enforcement of the game 
laws of that State. At present I am on a hunting trip in 
Northwestern Colorado, between White and Bear Rivers, 
just west of the Continental Divide. We are in the win- 
ter range of the deer — a little too low for the elk — and to 
give you an idea of how plentiful they are, it will be 
enough to say that in three days mountain lion hunting I 
counted on each day, respectively, 251, 137, and 124 deer 
within good gunshot. Thus far I have hunted for five 
days, perhaps three hours a day, and have lulled nine. 
It takes about three or four deer a week to feed the dogs, 
not to mention what we eat ourselves. Most of our time 
is devoted to hunting lions, and in two weeks we have 
killed four, the largest of which was seven feet five 
inches long, and measured thirteen inches around the 
forearm. What with the Utes, the Hons, and the hunt- 
ers, it is a wonder that the deer are not thinned out, but 
they are quite as plentiful as ever, according to old hunt- 
ers. The Utes hunt about ten miles to the west of us, 
and each brave kills an average of eight or ten deer a 
day, merely to sell the hides at fifty cents apiece. The 
settlers and the cow men .raid their camp and stampede 
their ponies about twice every year, and drive them back 
into their reservation in Utah. But they come back 
again each succeeding year, buying unauthorized permits 
from their agents. There is talk among the cattlemen of 
driving them out with arms, and for good, but whether 
they will carry this threat into effect will be more or less 
decided by the decision pending in the courts concerning 
the Utes in Utah." Special. 
Editor of Forest and Stream: The wanton butchering 
of game in this country and especially in the Far West is 
not confined to market hunters as the following account 
will show: 
Last fall Mr. Gerry, a son of Eldridge T. Gerry, of New 
York City, accompanied by his doctor, went big game 
shooting in White River country, Colorado. They had 
for guides the Tatkenbaugh Bros. , of Glenwood Spring, 
Col. 
These two young gentlemen were in the woods not 
quite a month, and they admitted killing thirty-one head 
of game — deer, antelope, and one elk. But even this 
slaughter did not satisfy these butchers, for a great many 
deer were found around their camp without even their 
throats cut. A man named Roberts counted twenty dead 
deer in the vicinity of their camp on the W T illiams Fork 
of the Bear. 
From hints dropped by the men who acted as packers, 
etc. , it may be inferred that the slaughter was simply 
awful, and that deer were killed right and left just to see 
them fall. 
W r hat makes this so much worse is that all the deer 
were killed when, in the velvet, and so the butchers could 
not save horns or meat. 
It is a common report in Colorado Springs that young 
Gerry's father retained a lawyer in the Springs in case 
his son had trouble with the game wardens. 
Here we have two men who have not the least bit of a 
sportsman in their make-up, but who, protected by great 
wealth, are allowed to kill game to their heart's content 
without having a word said from anybody. 
I trust you will have space to publish this in your 
valuable paper, and you will also add a few words your- 
self. Walter S. Cash. 
CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 
Death of Mr. liow. 
Jan. 30. — Too late for announcement in this week's 
Forest and Stream came as sad a piece of news as could 
befall this community of sportsmen, and one which it 
would be less sad if we need not announce at all. The 
death of Mr. Wolfred N. Low was not expected, few of 
his friends knew that his old throat trouble had finally 
taken him to bed, and at last proved fatal. Yet his death 
on Monday last is now part of the record of disaster to 
the craft of Western sportsmen. 
Mr. Low was forty-eight years of age. His death oc- 
curred at his residence, No. 1,708 Barry avenue, ensuing 
after a final illness of about one month. The funeral 
was held at eleven o'clock Wednesday last from the Hes- 
peria Lodge Rooms, 76 Monroe street, and was attended 
by large numbers of Chicago sportsmen, among whom 
Mr. Low was the most beloved of men. The funeral 
cortege left the lodge rooms for Rosehill Cemetery. 
Mr. Low was in all ways a prominent and stalwart 
figure in Illinois sportsmanship, and especially repre- 
sented much of the legal bone and sinew of the State 
Sportsman's Association, on whose law committee he had 
long served. 
Mr. Low had been a member at the Chicago bar for 
twenty-live years. He enlisted in an Illinois regiment, 
and served through the war. After being graduated 
from Oberlin law school he began practice in this city. 
He was a prominent figure in G. A. R. circles, and had 
twice served as President of Illinois State Sportsman's 
Association; President of the Veteran Union League, and 
He was also an active mern- 
F. A. M., Cumberland Gun 
jle River Hunting and. Fish- 
^lub, and Chicago Bar Assa- 
Commander Columbia Post, 
ber of Hesperia Lodge, A. 
Club, Prairie Gun Club, Ea 
ing Club, Camrnet Heights 
ciation. 
His death leaves a vacancy in sportsmanship, and an. 
ache in many sportsmen's hearts. 
Tlie Passing Show. 
Feb. 2.— Mr. H. McMurchy, of the Hunter Arms Cb.> 
and a large and persistent cold with him, spent a short 
time in Chicago_this week, stopping here twice en route 
to and from St. Louis. Mr. McMurchy aud his cold will 
soon start on the annual Coast trip, and will go via the 
Southern route, to see what can be done for the latter. 
Mac reports a slow improvement in the gun trade. 
Mr. Fred Biffar, of the H, & D. Folsom Arms Co., of 
New York and New Orleans, was also in Chicago on busi- 
ness this week, spending some time socially with Mr. 
McMurchy, the two being friends, after the lonesome 
fashion of traveling men, who have to live in hotels and 
dislike themselves therefor. 
Mr. A. F. Young, a very old angler and a skillful one, 
paused in Chicago, on the way East to Ithaca, where he 
will finish the winter. Mr. Young is the sort of angler 
who makes his own rods, and makes goods ones. He 
showed me a fifty-yard fly casting-line which he had just 
completed. It was dull grey, and all made of braided 
horse-hair of that natural color. This was a line that 
would make Izack Walton turn in his grave in envy, if 
he knew of it. Mr. Young is an ardent trout fisherman, 
but he says the lake market fishermen have ruined what 
was once fine shore fishing in Lake Michigan for the 
large brook trout. 
Mr. James B. Meikle, of Omaha, fish commissioner of 
that State of Nebraska, paused at the Forest and Stream 
office this week. Mr. Meikel says that protective work is 
still primitive in his State, though there is need of it. He 
has introduced a bill making an appropriation for fish 
and game protective purposes, and hopes for brighter 
days in the near future, in which wish all sportsmen will 
join him. 
Back to the White City, 
Mr. Blake B. Babcock, of Hornellsville, N. Y., writes 
me a letter which carries one back to the days of the 
White City. I will let it speak for itself. He says: 
"Several months ago vou published an article in the 
Forest and Stream, describing your encounter with Har- 
old B. Rose at the World's Fair, and you wrote so feel- 
ingly upon the subject it occurred to me you might like 
some inside history of your little friend. The conditions 
upon which Harold and Carlton went to the World's Fair 
were that they were to make notes of everything that 
interested them and write it all up when they returned 
home. They were not allowed to look in any guide book 
or magazine while writing, but had to depand upon their 
own notes and memory. This explains their readiness 
to fire questions at everybody they met. They were in 
search of material for their work. The only help they 
had was in grammar and spelling, as you will readily see 
upon an examination of the book which I send you with 
this letter. The fall and winter term of school having 
opened. Harold did not take his trip to the Adirondack 
Mountains as he fully expected to do with his Uncle Ed- 
win and myself. We will probably take both the boys on 
a hunting trip in Maine next fall." 
The book written by these boys shows the many views 
which newspaper enterprise has made famous to the 
public, but the most entertaining portious of it are the 
naive, but usually succinct and clear comments on the 
things which impressed the boyish authors at the Fair. 
As I said at that time, few more interesting visitors ever 
came into the Forest and Stream exhibit at the Fair than 
these two bright, little fellows, and to be again so unique- 
ly and nicely reminded of them and of the glorious days 
of the immortal pageant is a pleasant experience for 
which I must express my thanks. 
E. HOUGH. 
909 Security Building, Chicago. 
Notes From New Mexico. 
Santa Fe, N. M., Jan. 27.— 0\ir Legislative solons 
are at work now and we tried to get a "no sale plank" 
through, but the people are not educated up to that at 
present. A bill has already passed the Council that is a 
great improvement over the old absence of law, and it 
has a good chance of passing the house. When it gets 
through I will send you a copy of it. The slaughter of 
deer by market hunters has been greater than usual, and 
is still going on in the deep snow of the Sangre de 
Cristo range, and choice venison is worth five cents a 
pound. 
Some months since some gentleman from a location 
in Texas inquired about a good cross for a wolf dog. 
My idea is that there is no need of a cross of any kind. 
I think it is much better to mix the breeds in the pack 
instead of in the dogs. This gentleman spoke of want- 
ing a pack of about thirty, and my advice would be to 
get about ten each of foxhounds, staghounds, or more 
properly speaking, deerhounds, and greyhounds. I 
would get the puppies and raise them together and 
train them to hunt together. The foxhounds should be 
from some large strain noted for courage and fighting 
qualities. I would rather have such a pack than any 
cross breed dogs that were ever raised. I have never 
tried the Russian wolf hounds, but should presume that 
they would be good to put in such a pack. 
Speaking of three barrel guns, I want to say that I 
have used several combination guns of various makes 
and for mountain hunting like them very much, 
especially in a grouse, turkey and deer country. 
My favorite, which I am now using, is a 12-gauge, 
with . 40-70-330 rifle, all weighing 8>£ pounds. It suits 
me to perfection for an all-round camp gun. I think 
that .40-70-330, is one of the best cartridges ever made, 
and I am glad to see that the Winchesters have gotten 
out a model 1886 to use this load. 
I took a short trip to the plains in November for 
antelope, and saw lots of them, but they are not the 
antelope of ten years ago. They are very highly edu- 
cated at present, and do not seem inclined to take many 
chances. I only scored one hit and brought home a 
young spike-horn. 
My principal amusement these days is to take the 
greyhounds out after jack rabbits, which is really good 
fport. H - B - Heksey. 
CHAINED 
to Business? 
Can't go Shooting? 
Do the next best thing- 
J)..- Read the 
# Forest and Stream* 
