March 16, 1895. 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
203 
with its free wing, and it caused March quite an effort to 
keep a direct coxu-se, but he hung on and was a tired 
Ititle dog but supremely happy, as he brought it ashore 
and gave it into my hand. I was surprised at its weight, 
and at once weighed it on spring scales that I had in my 
pocket, and found it pulled down an even 3 3-4 pounds. 
TIib top of the skull only had been struck by the bullet, 
which accounted for its living so long after the shot. I 
shot quite a number of ducks that fall, and the two suc- 
ceeding falis that I spent in the Aclirondacks, always 
aiming at the head only. If I missed it was all right, but 
if I was successful I had the satisfaction of a bird unmu- 
tilated, and March was always a sure retriever, and never 
"While awaiting developments, we ate our lunch of 
bread and butter with slices of jerked venison and some 
jerked trout, with cold coffee; and having finished, I was 
about to light a cigar when I saw a movement in the 
brush some twelve or fifteen rods above, and calling An- 
drew's attention thereto, awaited the appearance. Soon 
our deer emerged, weak from loss of blood and slowly 
walked out into the river until the water covered the 
wound. March saw him and was eager to go. Believing 
that the deer was so nearly done for, that should he at- 
tempt to leave the water 1 could easily stop him, I un- 
buckled the strap and told March to go. He sprang into 
the water and swam for the deer, who did not notice him 
GLIMPSES OF CAMP LIFE. 
Camp at Trinity Lakes. Photo by F. F. Frisbie. 
hardly been out of the boat more than two or three min- 
utes ere he had put up a couple of ruffed grouse and was 
giving us notice of the fact, and while Andrew unloaded 
the boat and placed it and our baggage under the trees, I 
went and bagged the birds, and then we went up the trail 
to the cabin, taking along the pack basket, but leaving 
the game. Old man Harris had been a hunter and trap- 
per in Pennsylvania and Michigan in earlier days, but 
had lived alone in the Adirondacks for many years. He 
was a tidy housekeeper and a good cook, besides which he 
was a great collector' of curious specimens, not only of 
peculiar growths of wood and fungi, but also of stone 
formations, and his cabin was literally acovered with 
bones and claws, heads and antlers, some of the latter 
wonderfully interlocked, taken from the heads of fight- 
ing bucks that he had killed. He was a great reader, 
and as I had sent him a number of packages of the Forest 
and Stream after I had perused them, I was always heart- 
ily welcomed at his camp. 
Upon meeting him I was cordially greeted and asked 
to remain over night and as long as I chose. I asked him 
if he had any venison on hand, telling him I was fear- 
fully hungry, etc. The old man threw up his hands and 
expressed himself so sorry he hadn't a bit of meat, but 
would get up the best supper he could from what stores 
he had. I said to him I had heard that he was out, and 
as I had been at Dunbars, I had brought a few steaks 
along, and he could go with Andy down to the landing 
and get them. This pleased him much, but Andrew told 
me of his expressions of gratitude when he showed him 
the nice plump buck that I had killed expressly for him, 
and the alacrity with which he assisted in bringing it up. 
and after they had skinned it and I told him he could 
have the hide also, worth $2 to him, he swore in his pecu- 
liar way that I was one of the best fellows he knew. 
We had a royal feast, and sat about the fire and smoked 
and chatted, and I was for a long time an interested lis- 
tener of his tales of adventure. The next morning we 
proceeded on our trip up the Beaver and throtigh Albany 
Lake and the carries to my headquarters on Smith's Lake. 
March accompanied me through all my three years' 
journeyings in the Adirondacks. He was born at Saranac 
village, and his life ended at the edge of the wilderness. 
Winters, when I went South, I would leave him with An- 
drew, and on my return in the spring he was joyous to 
meet me. I finally gave him to Andrew, whose little boy 
had become attached to him. In April last I received 
the following quaint letter: "Friend Whitaker; I have 
been going to write to you a long time. The woods have 
changed so much, and everything since you and I were 
up there. It is full of railroads and parks now. I would 
like to hear from you how you are getting along. Poor 
March is dead. Yours truly, Andrew Lyndecker, New 
Bremen, N. Y." E. J. Whitaker. 
so happy as when doing something that he knew pleased 
his master. 
The trail of a wounded deer was the only thing that 
seemed to set him perfectly beside himself, as the saying 
is, and I would have to reprimand him sharply to keep 
him from running away and then always had to. attach 
a strap to his collar to hold him until sufficient time had 
elapsed for the deer to have ' sickened. I would then let 
him follow the trail while I held him in check, and fol- 
lowed with eyes keenly alert ready to give the coup-de- 
grace in case the deer was not already dead, and sprang 
from cover, and so seldom lost my 'game. I well recol- 
lect an incident that occurecl in the fall of the third sea- 
son that I spent in the Adirondacks. I had been making 
quite an extended tour, and on my way back to camp 
from Fulton Chain Lake via Big Moose Lake, ha<i stopped 
for a few days at Dunbar's Hotel, on the Stillwater of 
Beaver River, and visited the lakes and ponds and points 
of observation in that vicinity. On the morning of the 
day of our departure up the Beaver River, we met a 
couple of boats with a party who had been at Woods 
Lake, and had stopped the previous night at Harris's 
cabin, on the south branch, near this junction with the 
Beaver. After scraping an acquaintance and learning 
where they had been and where going, I asked them if 
old man Harris had any venison in camp;'they said he had 
not. That',"he said nis sight was so poor he was not so 
successful a hunter as he used to be. I said "all right, 
Andy, we will try and drop a deer for 'him on our way 
up." 
We parted company, and Andrew and I continued on 
our way up the river, he at the bow pulling the oars, and 
myself in the stern pa idling and steering the boat in its 
course up the devious river. Our pack basket was rest- 
ing against the yoke (wherewith the boat was taken over 
carries) in the center, and March was nestled on a bed of 
wild grass at my feet, while my rifle rested onwaoden 
hooks on one side and my rod case on the other. In this 
way we had proceeded about seven miles up the river, 
when on turning a bend of the stream I saw a fine buck 
feeding near the edge of the water, about twenty-five 
rods above the bend. I uttered alow cautionary sounil, 
and Andrew stopped rowing and let the boat drift back 
out of sight of the deer, when we pulled ashore and 
quietly put up the oars and changed positions so that An- 
drew was in the stern with the paddle, and I was in the 
bow with rifle in readiness, March having been strapped 
to the yoke to prevent him from bounding out. Silently 
Andrew propelled the boat up to the bend, and as soon 
as the buck was again in view, held it steadily as possible 
in position, while I took deliberate but quick aim and 
pulled the trigger. The deer sprang at once into the 
brush, and was out of sight ere the smoke gave me a view. 
An threw said, "Mr. W., you must have missed him, for 
his tail was up when he jumped into cover." I replied 
that I guessed that was not always a sure sign, for I was 
certain that my nerve was steady and my aim good, and 
that we would find the ball had struck "just back of the 
fore-shoulder, although it might be an inch or so lower 
than I had intended. I was absolutely sure that he was 
hit. We went up and landed near the spot where the 
deer had been, and Andre sv went ashore and made ex- 
amination, and reported that on the second jump blood 
was to be seen on each side, showing that the bullet had 
passed entirely through the game. In accordance with 
our usual custom, we decided not to follow the trail, but 
to row the boat up stream a few rods to an old sr>ag to 
which we could lash the boat, and from which position we 
could command a view of the shore for some distance, 
being confident that if ^living, the deer would very soon 
seek the water. 
until March had nearly reached him, when, instead of 
turning and going toward shore, he started to swim across 
the river, but March soon overtook him and actually 
climbed upon his back, and then forward and seized an 
ear in his mouth and commenced to shake it as best he 
could, and this and the dog's weight soon ended the life 
of the deer, but the little fellow huijg on and commenced 
towing the body to the shore, working like the hero that 
he was, until he had succeeded, and got into water too 
shallow for the buck to float in, and then for the first 
time let go his hold, when the ear dropped down under 
water, and March at once put his head down into the 
water and again seized the ear and held on until Andrew 
and I, who had been amused and interested spectators of 
SOME MOOSE STORIES. 
Halifax, Nova Scotia.— We were busily discussing one 
day the merits of Indians and white men as moose callers. 
"Oh!" said Amos, "an Injun can't call along side of me. 
Why, I recollect one time I went out tc the calling stone 
in a certain barren (this same stone I know well, it is 
about six feet high, with a flat top, well suited to call 
from) and gave a low call, and in a little while I heard 
him coming about a mile away. Bill says to me, Amos, 
how near can you bring him?' So I coaxed him nearer and 
nearer till he was about, 100 yards away. I thought 
surely he would see me, but moose haven't got no eyes 
GLIMPSES OF 
"Humph! yer' needn't kick. 
the performance, came to his relief and drew the deer out 
of water, hung it up and cut its throat, and then dressing 
it, gave March his well-merited portion of warm liver. 
As we praised him for his good work he seemed to under- 
stand it, and evidently thought he had done a grand act, 
and that was surely his deer. Would that I had had a 
camera to have made some snap shots of the scene during 
the varied phases. We loaded our game into the boat 
and proceeded on our way to the South branch, seeing 
two more deer en route, but as we had no need of more 
we let them go without any attempt to shoot them. 
On arriving at the landing on the South branch, per- 
haps a quarter of a mile from Harris's cabin, March had 
CAMP LIFE. 
» Photo by F. F. Frisbie. 
they can't see a little bit; so we kept perfectly still and 
never made a sound. After a while I just made a low 
tu-tu with my mouth. I was afraid to move my hands so 
as to make a trumpet. Then he come up and up just a 
step at a time, till, by jinks, sir, he was right up to the 
stone; we could have jumped down on his back. Then 
we let him have it, and he dropped like a log and never 
moved. Now, show me the Injun that could do that!" 
He is a firm believer in the idea, popular here, that there 
is a spot in the forehead of the moose which will turn 
a rifle ball. He tells a] story about [meeting a very large 
cow-moose face to face, at a distance of some thirty feet, 
on a logging ground one day. "There she stood looking 
