Jan. 23, 1897.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
63 
FIVE WEEKS 
AT LITTLE 
CAMPS. 
souni^sT 
shots 
shots, 
When 
take 
moose in 
I LEFT Fredericton Oct. 27, to 6p3nd a few weeks at the 
Little Sou' west CamDS of Mr. Braithwaite. My friends, 
Messrs. Irland and Eisteen, had already returned from 
those famous grounds with two fine moose heads, which 
has already been told the readers of Fobest and Stream 
by the a.ble pen of Mr. Bisteen — otherwise the Prowler. 
I cannot hope to equal Mr. Risteen in literary style or de- 
scriptive ability, but I will try to give a true account of 
my little trip, and, what is of more interest, the amount 
of game we saw. 
Some, no doubt, wil^ remember my unsuccessful hunt 
in this region last year, when Braithwaite and I each lost 
two fine moose through not having heavy enough rifles 
and being obliged to shoot in the brush. So this year I 
provided myself with a new Winchester, . 50-100-450, 
which I thought 
was about the right- 
gun for moose. 
And I must say that , — . . _ . 
from what I have 
seen, both this year 
and last, I have not 
changed my opin- 
ion, notwithstand- 
ing Mr. Cecil Clay's 
opinion to the con- 
trary. Your .44-40 
will no doubt kill a 
moose if you get a 
side shot, as, o f 
course, there is . 
nothing between 1 
you and his heart 
but a thin skin and ! 
a rib or two, but j 
[ how many times are I 
I you going to get the 
' mooso to stand in 
1 that way? Not once 
in fifty times. On 
this trip we saw sev- 
enteen moose; 
I twelve of these we 
. still-hunted, four 
[ crossed our path, 
j and one we paddled 
I up to. Throw out 
the four which 
crossed our path 
and you come down 
to but one moose, 
which, you might 
say, we had a 
chance to kill with 
a popgun. The 
others were all 
either quartering 
or running 
some both, 
you under- 
to stiU-hunt 
New 
Brunswick thicket 
you want a gun, 
and a big one at 
that, something that 
will stop him quick- 
ly, I suppose we 
can't all think alike 
on the gun question, 
but when I make a 
change it won't be 
for a smaller gun. 
I left Fredericton 
on Tuesday morn- 
ing, Oct. 37, for 
Boiestown, on the 
Miramichi River, 
which is the head- 
quarters of Mr. Wm. 
Richards, the well- 
known lumberman, 
where I expected to 
get a chance to go 
in the woods with 
some of his parties 
going to the head- 
waters of the Dun- 
garvon. Any other 
year, or a little 
later, when the 
snow is on, "port- 
ash" teams are 
going every day, 
but where a party is 
on the same grounds 
for two or more 
years they send in 
supplies a year 
ahead, or rather 
grub for this fall's 
work was sent in on 
the last of the "going" last spring. Mr. Braithwaite and 
I had our supplies sent in when theirs went in, so aU we 
had to do was to get there ourselves. 
I arrived in Boiestown at noon. I had come over on 
the freight train, as I was in no hurry and wanted to 
take the full benefit of my holidays (it was just a year 
since I had the last), and I take pleasure in the whole 
trip. Thfl little incidents of travel, the boys on the train 
going to the woods, the old friends one sees at the stations 
and along the road, all go to make up a good trip. When 
we got to Cross Creek four young men got in. I knew in 
a minute they were bound for the woods. I asked them 
whom they were going in for, and they said they were 
going to join Billy Davidson's party in the morning at 
Boiestown. So I told them I was for the same country, 
and we became chummy at once. They had been having 
a "wee shock," as the Scotchman said, and were feeling 
pretty well, and when the conductor went out of the 
caboose one of them tried to ride his bike, but as the train 
was going about twenty miles an hour he didn't make 
much of a success at it, and the conductor coming in put 
a stop to the fun. One of the older boys said: "He won't 
feel that frisky by the time he gets to Rocky Brook," and 
he didn't. As the train drew into Boiestown the first 
person to grasp my hand was Mr. John B, Holts, who 
lives at Pleasant Ridge, eight miles from Boiestown. 
His home is headquarters for parties going to and from 
the woods up Dungarvon. I had sent word ahead for 
him to meet me, and he was on hand with a stout buck- 
board wagon and smart horse. After seeing some friends 
in Boiestown we started, and arrived at Mr. John B.'s 
at 1 o'clock, with a good appetite for one of Mrs. Holts's 
first-class dinners. Mr. and Mrs. Holts are a fine exam- 
ple of some of the old settlers. She is a smart old lady 
of seventy, and he is an equally smart old gentleman of 
seventy-five. They have eleven sons and daughters, who 
are all living — ^never having lost one, which is quite re- 
markable in so large a family. They celebrated their 
golden wedding year before last, when their boys came 
home from all parts of the Union to help them remember 
BLACK DtrOK. 
From the original photograph. 
it. It was made a kind of big party — so big, in fact, that 
the table for the wedding dinner had to be set out of 
doors, as people came from all around to congratulate 
them, as no people are more highly thought of in the 
country than they. I stayed all night at Mr. Holts's, and 
was up in time to see Mrs, Holts, with the help of one 
girl and a man cook, get breakfast for thirty-eight hun- 
gry men on their way to the woods. 
Mr. Richards, the day before, had told me that he 
would advise Billy Davidson's party to go to Dungarvon 
via Rocky Brook, and as that would mean that they 
would go up the main Sou'west Miramichi and would not 
pass Mr. Holts's place, I got Mr. Holts to drive me down 
to the river to meet them. When we got to the forks of 
the road there were no teams in sight, and the white 
frost on the road showed plainly that no one had been 
along that morning, so we waited. Pretty soon the ad- 
vance guard showed up in the form of five or six of the 
party, among them our friend of the bicycle ride. Just 
then the schoolmarm came to the schoolhouse door, and 
seeing us standing there said: "Come in, boys;" so we all 
filed in and watched her open school. The wagons com- 
ing along then, we had to start. We bowed to the 
teacher, came out and shook hands with Mr. Holts, and 
started on our three days' walk into the woods, the boys 
to wrestle spruce logs, and I to try for a shot at a bull 
moose. There were seventeen of us, and as we walked 
along behind the teams that fine fall morning it was a 
pleasure to be alive and to be out of doors. Some of the 
party had revolvers and two had guns, and the word was 
"let nothing live" — and they didn't, Partridges, squir- " 
rels, owls, everything had to fall before them; even a tin 
kettle belonging to some "portasher" was punched full 
of bullet holes, for which I got the blame from the afore- 
mentioned "portasher" — also his ill will, as he thought 
only a towny would do such a trick, and he knew there 
was a towny in the party. We kept on up the river to 
"Hayes's." The river is swift here, and the teams had to 
ford about two miles above, so all but the teamsters were 
to cross here. There were two dugouts on the shore, and 
a kid in one who 
was just about tall 
enough to see over 
the gunwale. When 
asked if he could set 
us across, he said: 
"Of course I can." 
And he was right. 
Every Sou'wester 
can pole a canoe 
nearly as soon as 
he can walk. The 
kid set us over and 
we kept on up the 
shore to Palmer 
Flat, and there 
waited for the 
teams. They 
showed up in about 
half an hour, but it 
took them about an 
hour to get over the 
river, as they had 
to make two trips. 
We boiled the 
kettle, and turned 
about to face the 
celebrated Rocky 
Brook Portage, and 
it is a rocky brook 
portage, and no mis- 
take. As the Dutch- 
man told us last 
summer, "I've trav- 
eled vid circus and 
Vild Vest, and I tell 
you vot, it vos a 
Vild Vest." The 
first three miles it 
was mud — deep 
mud, black mud, 
red mud — but com- 
ing out at the top 
of the hill we met 
an old friend in the 
person of Miles 
Hunter, under 
whose care ■ I had 
gone when a kid 
on my first salmon 
trip, and he told us 
we were through 
the worst of it. We 
made about six 
miles before dark, 
when we put up a 
lean-to, and with 
lots of rock maple 
for a fire we had a 
fairly comfortable 
night. In the morn- 
ing we were off at 
daylight, and about 
noon stopped in an 
old camp for lunch, 
and as it com- 
menced to snow 
one of the boys, 
not wishing to lie 
out another night, 
stumped anyone to 
strike for camp — 
J eighteen miles 
j away. I said I 
I would go, and 
i| when the rest saw 
j us getting some 
J lunch they wanted 
: to go also, and so 
two more came 
a along. When we 
had made about 
four miles we came 
to the new camp of 
Mr. Daniel Evans, 
of Cardigan, who 
very kindly asked 
us to stay over night; but our leader, Joe Weaver, had 
said Forty-Seven-Mile Brook Camp, and Forty-Seven- 
Mile Brook it was to be. At Evans's Camp we were over- 
taken by five more of our boys, making nine all told, 
and they didn't bring any grub either. We walked 
pretty hard, and at 5 o'clock we reached Forty-Seven- 
Mile Brook Camp. We found the old stove up, and that 
was about all. We made a little tea, ate some sweet cake 
and lay down in our wet clothes on the floor to put in rhe 
night. We got the night in somehow, and in the morn- 
ing I and another of the party started over to Fullerton's 
Camp for grub. On the way we met our old friend Mr. 
Patohell, who had been in the woods since April, watch- 
ing the stuff in the storehouses. He had lots of inquiries 
to make about his family and his neighbors, and he was 
free to confess that he was glad the parties were coming 
in to take his job away from him. We got a sack of 
grub and brought it over to the boys. We waited until 
dark for the teams and then put out for FuUerton's 
Camp, where there was grub, with blankets. There I 
met Dave Douglas, who, with Henry, had been in the 
woods ever since Oct. 10. 
