June 22, 1895.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
809 
season there were many wild turkeys, with ducks and 
geese by the million. 
This forest, although intersected by many sloughs and 
bayous, was easily accessible to any one acquainted with 
the country. The canebrakes were confined to the high 
ridges, which were seldom flooded, and where during 
overflows the lands were deep under water little or no 
underbrush grew, and when tbe flood had receded the 
land was mostly firm and hard, the forest quite open, and 
one up to the business could ride here often at full speed. 
With Horse and Hounds. 
But to our tale. The time is early dawn in the month 
of October. The soft, mellow haze of the Indian summer 
dims the distant forest, and wraps in a misty mantle the 
far shores of the lake. An appointment has been made 
with neighbors for a deer drive, and you are waiting for 
them to appear. 
After a light repast, you take your double barrel and 
walk out to where on the shore of the lake in front of the 
dwelling your huntsman is waiting with your horse and 
hounds. This old tough, grizzle-pated negro — the best 
and most faithful of servants, God bless him — is also 
hostler and an adept at his business, having served his 
apprenticeship in a racing stable; and your saddle horse 
and equipments are all right. Your mount is a thorough- 
bred — not tall, for a low animal is best for this work — and 
of all breeds when properly handled this is the most 
docile and quiet, A mare, too, for you hold to the idea 
of the Arabs that the mare is more tractable and yields 
more readily to control than the horse or gelding. 
The hounds crowd around you with yelps and howls of 
delight, each anxious for a carcass, and now down the 
lake you hear the horn of your near neighbor and hunting 
companion, and soon he makes his appearance from a 
bend in the road, trotting along, followed by his hounds 
and huntsman. 
Almost simultaneously the other expected hunters ride 
up, and after a general hand-shaking and inquiries after 
the health of families, all dismount to have a look at the 
dogs. Here they are exchanging dog salutations, for 
they all know each other — the two packs, numbering some 
ten couple, having often been hunted together. They 
have all been carefully bred for their business — some in 
color beautifully mottled and spotted, but most of them 
black and tans and tawny reds. 
After a short consultation, the proposed hunting ground 
is agreed upon and all mount and are off. After a ride of 
a mile or two, here we are upon the hunting ground. 
On all sides spreads away one of the grandest forest 
growths of the world. Still and solemn, with no sound 
breaking the silence but tbe quacking of the mallards in 
a distant lagoon, or the strange piercing cry of one of the 
most beautiful of all birds, the ivory-billed woodpecker, 
the company rides slowly through the forest glades — no 
talking is the understanding — and the hounds are eager- 
ly questing around on every side. 
All at once, old Bellman, the leading trailer under yon- 
der huge over-cup oak, where the acorns lie thick upon 
the ground, begins to feather his sides with his tail, and 
thrusting Mb nose down among the fallen leaves, throws 
his head aloft and gives out a cry like the long drawn note 
of a bugle. 
Instantly every hound makes for him. The trail is 
taken up, picked up by one here, hit off by another there; 
for now the deer, a stag and a large one — you have seen 
his tracks — has done feeding and has gone off to lie down. 
All the time the scent is growing hotter, the cry of the 
hounds more eager. You look around for your compan- 
ions, but they know their business; they have silently sep- 
erated, each going off by himself, to take the chances for 
a shot; for they know the game will soon be on foot. 
The negro huntsmen stay with the dogs. 
You draw rein for an instant to listen; hotter and hotter 
grows the scent, ever more continuous the cry — when 
suddenly there is a general outburst of voice from the 
whole pack, which re-echoes and reverberates through the 
forest. What an uproar! 
Your game is up and away ! 
One instant you pause to determine what course the 
stag is taking and then you give your mare her head, for 
the idea is to get ahead of the pack and deer, and as the 
weather is cool and the hounds fresh, you will have to 
ride to do so. Away you go at almost a racing stride — 
dodging a stump here, stooping under a limb there — 
checking up at the small thickets and threading them at 
a trot — giving rein and stretching out at speed iu the open 
glades. 
Here is a nasty cypress brake, a regular bog^of mud 
and water; but here, a little below, the "cypress knees" 
grow thick above the water, and you know the ground is 
hard underneath, and you ci'oss and again settle into the 
long gallop. 
The cry of the hounds never checks — they are running 
their best off to one side and parallel to your course. 
Right before you lies an immense prostrate tree; no time 
now to go around it — take a grip of the saddle with your 
knees and ride straight at it. Over you go with a bound 
like that of a deer, your mare catching oh her feet with 
the activity of a cat. 
You have now come some miles, and you pull up to 
listen to the dog chorus, which has never ceased. Hark I 
they have turned and are coming this way, and right here 
where these two open glades come together he will pass, 
for he will follow one or the other. Nearer and nearer 
comes the uproar. Turn your mare just a little to avoid 
shooting over her head, watch that open glade before you 
and be perfectly still. Your horse knows what is coming, 
and scarcely breathes. All at once she turns her pretty 
head a little and points her ears forward. Yes, there he 
is, coming at a long low gallop, head carried low, and tail 
down, for he is beginning to tire. He suspects no danger 
in front, and his attention is given to the clamor behmd 
him. Heavens, what antlers! As he leaps into an open 
space within range you raise your gun, he sees you, and 
throwing up his head and tail, darts to one side; but you 
have the gun on him, and the two loud reports follow in 
quick succession. The stag rushes at speed into the brush 
with his tail down and lashing his flanks. The pack comes 
up and catching the scent of blood redouble their wild 
music. Suddenly there is a silence. You know what 
that means. You ride in the direction the pack has gone, 
and come upon them; old Buster, the fighting dog of the 
pack, standing over the dead stag and warning the others 
with a savage growl not to touch him. 
Get down, loosen the girth of your saddle, turn your 
mare free to pick around on the sweet young cane shoots. 
Wind your horn for your companions and take a look at 
your game. Six points on each antler and he will weigh 
SOOlbs. Here come your friends riding up. Shake hands 
all around, and the hunt is over, 
§m\t §ntj mid §niu 
SLAUGHTERING ADIRONDACK DEER. 
Editor Forest and Stream : 
On the morning of June 9 my friend, Robert P. Froe- 
lich, of New York City, and William Clark, an expert 
woodsman, living in Northwood, left for a fishing trip to 
Horn Lake, beyond North Lake, a State reservoir eigh- 
teen miles distant, to Indian River beyond Horn Lake, 
and down that river to Moose River, and down Moose to 
the Carachagola. Stillwater, where they struck across 
north of Carachagola Lake, down the grade to North 
Lake and home again. 
Between North Lake and Horn Lake they met a party 
of six on their way out of the woods, who said to them 
that they had seen, and the incomers would see, twenty- 
five or thirty deer, not alive, but dead and rotting. 
Neither Froelich nor Clark would believe it. They saw 
none at Horn Lake, nor along the trail to Indian River, 
but between the trail and Moose River there were dead 
deer; between the mouth of Indian River and Cara- 
chagola Stillwater there were dead deer; between Cara- 
chagola Stillwater and Carachagola Lake there were dead 
deer. They found them along the banks of the rivers, 
and when they left the banks of the rivers found them in 
the depths of the woods. 
Their wanderings took them through some of the finest 
deer countries that we have here. Last fall deer, while 
not so numerous as in the yeai's before, were still plenty 
enough to be seen any day. Their freBh tracks and signs 
were everywhere back in the woods. Every day they 
were jumped, and on the first day of still-hunting it is 
estimated that the five of the party which I was in with 
saw twenty-two all told. But the expert woodsman was 
astounded when he walked rod after rod, and for from 
a quarter to half a mile at a stretch, saw not one fresh 
sign and mighty few old ones where deer had been. 
The deer found dsad were in the gray coat — the winter 
one. 
On the Adirondack League lands, between Caracha- 
gola Lake and Moose River, there were two sets of lum- 
bermen's camps last fall and winter, now deserted. When 
I came past there one day last fall a deer skin lay on the 
end of a log beside beside our trail. The two men here 
saw piles of deer hair from the winter coat. The ordinary 
meat furnished by lumbermen contractors is either salt 
pork and salt beef, or both. Fresh meat gallops through 
the woods past most lumber camps about every day. If 
not there it is to be found a ways back. 
In every lumber camp in use that I ever visited there is 
a rifle or shotgun, usually the former. Sundays are holi- 
days. Some man out of the forty or fifty is a hunter. In 
fact, I have been reliably informed that there is usually a 
man in the largest of camps who is hired ostensibly as a 
tree chopper, but really to hunt day after day, and keep 
the camp supplied with fresh meat. It is a common re- 
port that one such hunter told that he killed over 
twenty deer, twenty-two to be exact. He is a poor man, 
and to prosecute him would not reach either the foreman 
who hired him or the responsible contractors. 
In the immediate vicinity of Northwood a year ago this 
spring at least five different deer had been seen by June 
15. Up to this writing not one has appeared, although 
rumors of them have twice been around which when fol- 
lowed up were found to come from dubious sources. To 
the best of my knowledge no deer has been within three 
miles of Northwood, nor did I see a sign in going to the 
south branch reservoir on Little Black Creek, over a road 
where deer are prone to run every spring. 
The tourist who went along Moose River three sum- 
mers ago would see there four or five deer in the middle 
of a day. Along toward sundown a dozen or so would 
tamely stare at the human laden boat. In the evening 
and night their snorts and splashings were audible fif- 
teen rods from the river bank. When startled they ran 
back into the woods thirty or forty rods or less. But the 
two living deer that Mr. Froelich and Mr. Clark saw ran 
as if dogs were snapping at their hams. 
To this is added the destruction of fish — they have dis- 
appeared almost. On Moose River they could find but 
few. On the best cold beds they had not a rise. In deep 
water and shallow, swift and still, with flies and bait, 
yet they found them only at times. There thev used to 
throw themselves six or eight at a time for the flies. Two 
flies were sufficient for a cast, three a nuisance, but one 
was a great plenty. Dynamite sticks and fuses were 
found by Froelich and Clark. 
All in all it was an interesting trip, but, My God ! it is 
enough to make a man sick to think of what they saw. It 
is earnestly recommended that the Adirondack League 
take steps to see that such slaughter does not again take 
place on its territory. It has been claimed that wolves 
did it, but as yet I have not heard that any one has seen 
a wolf in that region within ten years, although some 
have claimed to have heard them howl. 
Raymond S. Speaks. 
Northwood, N. Y., June 15. 
The Case of the New Jersey Judges. 
The Supreme Court of this State on Friday rendered a 
decision in the somewhat famous duck shooting cases, 
holding that the complaints should have been dismissed 
by the justice for want of jurisdiction. The suit was instf 
tuted by the warden of this county on the evidence uf 
some ten or a dozen people at Greenwood Lake. The 
warden not having seen the offense committed made the 
complaint "on information and belief," a form of prose- 
cution which had never before been questioned in pro- 
ceedings under the fish and game act, and sustained fre- 
quently by the higher courts in criminal proceedings. 
Many a man has been hanged on complaints made on in- 
formation and belief. But in this case Judge Dixon 
claimed that the papers were not correct because the law 
contemplated that proof absolute should be submitted. On 
this question Judge Dixon removed the case to the 
Supreme Court, of which tribunal he is a member. He, 
however, did not sit on the argument of the case. The 
court holds that Judge Dixon is correct in his interpreta- 
tion of the law and dismisses the case. The question as to 
the guilt or innocence of the accused did not come up in 
any way, the question involved being merely one of law. 
No further steps will be taken in the matter until a copy 
of the court's decision has been received, so that its full 
scope may be ascertained. The Board of the Fish Commis- 
sioners will then take action, but just what it will be is 
impossible to tell. The strongest kind of influence was 
brought to bear as soon as the cases were begun to save 
Judge Dixon, permitting the law to take its course as to 
the others implicated, but the commission declined to be 
influenced, seeing no reason why a Supreme Court Judge 
should not be punished for violating the law. So certain 
was the warden of the guilt of the accused that he offered 
to discontinue the proceedings if the accused would _give 
him their words that they were innocent, an offer to 
which no attention whatever was paid. 
The commission may drop the whole matter now, an 
appeal may be taken to the Court of Errors and Appeals, 
or the proceedings may be instituted anew again on 
proper papers. The decision of the court will consider- 
ably hamper the wardens in the discharge of their duties, 
as it is frequently a difficult matter to secure affidavits 
from persons who have seen violations of the law. — 
Paterson N. J.) Chronicle. 
That Game Market Law. 
Under the new Game Code, which Gov. Morton has 
just made a law, it will be extremely difficult to guard 
against the illicit killing and selling of game in New York 
City. The law practically removes every limit to the pe- 
riod of open traffic in game. It permits the dealer to 
justify such all-the-year traffic by exhibiting evidence that 
the game was shipped from a point at least three hundred 
miles from the State of New York, a provision so easy to 
evade that it need hardly have been imposed. The first 
effect of this law will be the unloading upon New York 
City of refrigerated game clandestinely held in cold stor- 
age in other markets. The law will encourage both the 
illicit sale of game and the unlawful killing of it in this 
State. It will encourage the violation of the law in sister 
commonwealths which forbid the sending of game out of 
those States. Instead of being a bill to further protect 
game birds and animals it is rather a retrograde move- 
ment, and will do more to encourage the unlawful killing 
of game than the other excellent provisions of the law will 
do to discourage it. Forest and Stream, the leading 
sportsmen's organ of the country, has taken up the cudgels 
against the obnoxious section of the law and declares 
that it will not rest until it is repealed. — New York Mail 
and Express. 
A case in point of the tyranny of trade is found in the 
approval by Gov. Morton of the Donaldson Fish and 
Game law, which permits the sale of game in New York 
throughout the entire year, provided that it has not been 
killed within the limits of the State or within 300 miles of 
its boundaries. This law met with unanimous disap- 
proval on the part of sportsmen, but their efforts to pre- 
vent its passage or to secure a veto from Gov. Morton 
were futile. The commercial interests of cold-storage 
warehousemen and dealers in game brushed aside aJl 
opposition. The law cannot but be most injurious to 
game. New York, as the great distributing center of the 
country, will call for an enormous increase in the supply 
of game from all parts of the Union during the open 
season, to be disposed of in the close season. This will be 
an incentive to market gunners in every direction to 
greater efforts to meet the demand, with a corresponding 
destructive effect upon game of all kinds. — New York 
Sun. 
gm ut\d §w#r ^falling. 
A LITTLE TRIP UP LYTLE CREEK. 
Slam! bang! crash! I started up from a sound sleep 
thinking the side of the house had fallen in, but it was 
only the window shutters blown shut and then slammed 
against the side of the house by a "norther" that was 
whooping around the house in a hurry to get from El 
Cajon to the sea. "They will not go in such a wind," I 
sleepily said to myself and turned over to be awakened 
in a short time by the whir-r-r of the alarm clock, 
which was the signal that it was 3:30 A. M., and that 1 
must get up if I was to start for Lytle Creek at 4 o'clock 
with two friends who said they would call for me at that 
hour. I hardly thought they would come, the wind blew 
so hard, but promptly at the hour they were on hand, and 
at their call, "All aboard," I hastily swallowed the con- 
tents of my coffee cup and skurried out to where they 
sat in the buckboard awaiting me. 
How that "norther" did blow though as we started off 
in the dawning of the morning. The only sound, aside 
from the wind, was the crowing of the roosters. And 
right here I want to say, for all-night crowers I'll match 
the roosters of southern California against the world. 
What a morning drive that was. Through the orange 
groves we went for awhile. FoJi one mile there was a 
row of palm trees on one side and of pomegranates on the 
other, the red flowers of the latter showing like coals of 
living fire against the dark green leaves in the just- 
before-sunrise light. Soon streaks of golden light began 
to stream up from behind the great mountains which 
encompass Bear Valley. The snow-capped tops of San 
Bernardino and Gray back gleamed white against the 
clear, dark sky. Away to the southwest San Jacinto 
was outlined upon the heavens. 
Soon it was no longer gray dawn, but bright sunlight, 
and we had left the orange groves behind and were cross- 
ing the desert toward the mountains. The desert is all 
abloom this morning. What a variety of flowers and how 
brilliant their coloring. All are strange to me and of 
names unknown, except the cactus, of which there are 
several varieties. Those tall, white-robed, sentinel-like 
things o'ertopping all growth on the desert are the flower- 
ing yucca or Spanish bayonet. 
Here we are entering the gorge where the creek leaves 
the mountain. How the "everlasting hills" do loom up. 
That great scar there tells where hydraulic mining has 
been carried on. We cross the creek not only once, but 
many times. The road is so rough that I wonder the 
buckboard holds together or that we keep our seats. The 
jolting did shell several of the hard-boiled eggs in the 
lunch basket as neatly as we could have done it ourselves. 
