Apbil 24, 1897.] 
PORESt AND STREAM. 
S27 
IN FLORIDA QUAIL FIELDS. 
The xnorniDg was bright and chilly, witli a fresh westerly 
breeze exhilarating to man and beast. The ground was wet 
and cool, the undergrowth and foliage were sparkling still 
with rain drops. It was the first day, in fact, since ISfov. 1, 
that the dogs could run for more than two hours without 
being overheated and exhausted. The Alderman and the 
Captain expecting sucli a day after iberain, were ready for 
iti and by 6:80 A. M. had breakfasted and bad loaded into 
the light hunting wagon the dogs, the guns (which were set 
in a Oox gun rack, with springs to take the jar and with 
itons to hang over the dashboard), the indispensable luncb 
basket and shell box, and themselves, and had said "let's 
go" to faithful Maude, a little black mare born and raised 
in Florida, but of theLorillard strain, which gave her a more 
distinguished air than ordinary native horses She likes out 
shooting trips, is indiiJerent to gun fire, and has delightful 
Haps and dreams of ground oats, corn and wheat, while 
those meh are following up birds. 
The three dogs were Ned, a black setter; Left, lemon, and 
■While pointer, fifteen monihs old, from the Bar Harbor Ken- 
nels; and Jess, a lemon and white setter, ten months old. 
About a mile from town, between Mariner's Lake and 
Bream Pond, JSTed struck a trail, which Jess took up too. 
Ned worked the trail for 200yds., then swung down wind 
and catne up to a beautiful point near the edge of Bream 
Pond, Jess came up and hacked. (Left was tied.) 
The first bird rose al6ne on the right, the Captain's side, 
who shoots left-handed, and was killed. Six rose to fire. 
Alderman missed, as did Captain with remaining shell. 
Two more rose. Captain and Alderman crossed one and the 
other got away. Then two more rose; not shot at. 
Ned went in to retrieve and two snipe jumped from shore 
of pond; Captain dropped one at 50yds. with the long left 
barrel. 
Kound the pond to two marked birds Ned trailed and 
pointed, Jess backing again. Alderman killed his bird. On 
a little, Captain hit bis bird, which went down again further 
round. Ned pointed him; it ran lOyds. and flew up, but 
Captain stopped him for good. 
On the ridge beyond the pond Ned pointed. The Alder- 
man killed his, but Captain missed his and another that rose 
to fire. Going back to the wagon and around the other side 
of the pond, we saw the other snipe get up on Captain's side, 
but it did not go far. The record now was five quail and 
two snipe. 
Driving on a little way, we lied up again, leaving. Jess with 
the wagon. On the south side of Black Pond Ned found 
and pointed, and Left came down ahead of Ned, flushing two 
birds, but holding her ground steady. 
A very large bevy rose. The Alderman, somewhat both- 
ered in controlling the young dog, killed only one; the Cap- 
tain killed two with each barrel. The second bird with left 
barrel was a scratch, for it flew into the shot 30ft. ahead of 
the bird pulled on, which was a pretty long shot itself. 
The birds turned to the right after flying through some 
thick oaks, and we missed them at first by keeping straight 
oo; but Left, hunting wide to right, pointed and flushed a 
bird that the Captain stopped as it was going by in a 
hurry. 
Turning to the rit^ht, Ned found and pointed in some 
•waist high titi bushes. The Captain missed the first bird, 
and they kept getting up. The Alderman killed two. Cap- 
tain missed another. " The Aloerman killed again, Cap- 
tain killed a pine tree as a bird flew behind it, and the 
Alderman killed the bird. We went to marked bird which 
Ned pointed in some palmettoes, and the Alderman killed. 
The Alderman missed two back in the titi bushes. Going 
back. Left pointed a single that flushed wild. Captain 
let go a long shot, the bird flew 200yds. and turned sharp to 
right. We went up, Ned pointed dead bird and retrieved. 
Out of this bevy we had ten quail— a total of fifteen. 
The third bevy was found, after driving half a mile, 
at the head of a thicket, into which thty flew at once. 
We shot one down on rise, but failed to retrieve. Then the 
Alderman killed one in thicket, and Captain crippled one; 
but there was no satisfaction wading knee deep in water, 
through briers and saplings and bushes. The one quail 
from tiiis bevy made our total sixteen. 
Coming out on the other side of the thicket, we crossed a 
flat to another lake. Here Jess pointed the fourth bevy. 
Captain called to Alderman, who was working Ned to left, 
and as he was stepping round to gel behind and keep her 
steady the birds flushed under his feet. He killed right and 
left, though the first bird flew as far as the edge of the 
bushes before going down, and Ned retrieved it when we 
went in to hum the scattered birds. 
Jess pointed the first single in bushes at the edge of the 
vpater. The Captain killed that bird and missed' one that 
rose to fire in a thicket. Ned pointed to left on edge of 
bushes; the Alderman made a quick kill over some briers. 
Ned roaded a runner a long way tnrough bushes, briers and 
palmettoes and a wire fence, and finally got him up. The 
Alderman hit him very hard and Ned retrlBVfd about 
1 00yds. on. These five quail made our score twenty-one. 
Ned found the fifth bevy, which fiushed just as the Cap- 
tain came up from quite a distance off. Alderman killed 
one and Captain one by a loDg shot. There were only four 
in all, and the other two separated while hunting for one that 
flew toward some palmettoes on shore of a lake (which lies 
Half a mile north of the last one we were on). Another 
bevy, the sixth, flushed to our left rather wild. We must 
have walked wil bin 15ft. of them, but the dogs went out- 
side of them. We nnrked them down without firing. 
Then we had some pretty, old-fashioned shooting in thick 
palmettoes not over knee high ; the birds were within a yard 
or two of each othtT, but- lay like stones and had to be 
kicked up or stepped upon. Ned pointed first and Jess 
backed. The Alderman killed neaily straightaway, and 
Captain killed one that rose to fire and flew back. Jess 
pointed while Ned was retrieving. We put up a pair and 
each killed our bird. Then .Jess and Ned pointed together. 
Captain missed a straightaway, but killed a sharp twister to 
right over the water, Ned retrieving. Jess pointed a bird 
with which the Ahlerman failed to connect, but the Captain 
stopped him. Captain mi sed a bird that twisted back over 
the water and seemed to try how fast it could fly. The Cap- 
tain and the Alderman crossed on one bird, with two out of 
the fifth bevy and six out of the sixth; the score was now 
twenty nine. 
Tne seventh bevy flushed in the road to get out of the way 
)f the wagon. Jess pointed to flush to the right. They 
lew into a swamp. We crossed on a bird on the edge and 
Captain killed one in the swamp. With two out of the sev- 
enth bevy we now had thirty-one. 
We drove three or four miles nearly in a circle between 
bevy No. 6 and No. 7, and also ate our lunch; and it was 
now about 3 P. M. We found a very large bevy, the eighth, 
about one-fourth mile beyond No. 7 on the road home. The 
birds were sprinters, and had ten acres of ground hot with 
scent. Ned worked up and down; Jess displayed good nose 
by locating them, but flushed them while reading in somd 
palmettoes. She came in looking so sorry we could not 
punish her. Jess is an extraordinary puppy for a nonde- 
script; she will not flush intentionally, nor chase under any 
circumstances, not even a rabbit, nor break shot. Her 
, principal fault is slowness, which she will Outgrow with 
more expeiience. On our going to the marked birds, two 
or three flushed wild in palmettoes and were marked doWn. 
Then two rose to the right of Captain, who made a right 
and left, and missed a third. The Alderman then killed 
three straight in his tracks and Captain went to a marked 
single which Jess pointed and which did not get away. 
The Alderman killed his fourth bird. We crossed 
on one, and going back to where they first rose, 
some birds having flown back there. Captain shot one 
down that got away in a thicket. The Alderman shot an- 
other down, and Captain killed one that rose to fire and flew 
behind him. Ned retrieved Captain's bird; then when he was 
trailing Alderman's cripple in some very thick palmettoes, 
another bird rose a long way ahead. Alderman knocked it 
down with the left barrel of his new Paiker about 75yds, off; 
Ned then lost the first cripple, and began trailing the last. 
The poor dog skinned his nose on the palmetto roots, grabbed 
a mouthful or two of sand and trash, and once caught a 
mouthful of tail feathers as the bird dodged under a root; 
but finally he gave it up with a most expressive bark of ex- 
treme disgust. Ned is lovable, faithful and industrious; 
though there are many cleverer dogs, there are very few 
more satisfactory. The eighth bevy yielded eight quail; to* 
tal, thirty-nine. 
The ninth bevy was found by Jess at dusk, but Left ran 
in and stole the point and held steady. Captain missed and 
Alderman killed one, making the score: Alderman, eighteen 
quail; the Captain, twenty-two quail and two snipe; total, 
lorty quail and two snipe. 
All the misses may not be noted, but the Alderman and 
the Capta-in shoot about alike; and average, day in and day 
out, about half their birds. If the writer could flank this 
tale with some of the fat birds on toast, he would fear lest it 
would prove too dry reading. Captain. 
CHICAGO AND THE WEST. 
"The Story of a Book." 
Chicago, HI., April 9.— In the issue of Fobbst and 
Stoeam of Feb. 27 last I liad somewhat to say in regard to 
the wonderful book, "The Great West." 1 spoke of the in- 
fluence which that book had probably exerted" upon my own 
life, mentioning the longings it stirred in my boyish breast 
to see the men who made its heroes, to visit the lands which 
were once their theater. I recalled that to my youthful 
mind the character of Fremont was the one heroic figure. 
If only I could have been with Fremont when he crossed 
the Eockies in the winter! 
I wonder if it is not true that one always accomplishes 
whatever he wishes to do, attains whatever end his heart 
actually desires? This same thought came to my mind one 
day in the spring of 1886, when I found myself riding over 
the Panhandle of Texas in search of the buftalo which 1 had 
always longed to kill, and which I really did kill, although 
the buffalo were then supposed to be extinct. To-day I am 
just back from the Rocky Mountains. I could not go with 
Fremont, but I have seen the Rockies in the winter time, 
and have walked over their very summit on the snow. I 
have been with men who live up against the main Divide, 
and have seen and done many things which surpassed even 
the ambitions of my boyish dreams. All this may be part 
of the fulfillment of the legacy of this book, and I say it not 
so much with exultation as with wonder, believing that per- 
haps all things come true if we have but faith. 
On my desk, at my return, 1 find a great heap of letters, 
and among them all there are none which touch me so nearly 
as those called out by the mention made of this book, "The 
Great Wes^" As I believe these to be legitimately within 
the province of Forest and Stream, I offer among others 
the following, in the hope that they may possess for the 
readers of Forest and Stream: something of the interest 
they offer me. They come from all over the country, and 
in part show well the hold that Forest and Stream has 
upon the people of America, 
St. Louis, Mo., Feb. 27.— Your graceful acknowledgement 
by letter of my poor gift was more than it deserved, and I 
was quite unprepared for the mention of my name in con- 
nection with your touching tribute to the book in this 
week's Forest and Stream. Believe me, I am more than 
glad to have been your humble messenger to the fairies. 
Horace Kephart. 
Pittsburg, Pa.— I wish to thank you for yonr article in 
Forest and Stream of Feb. 37 conceruing the book of your 
youth, "The Great West." I was fortunate enough to get a 
copy. It is in first-class condition, and newly rebound. It 
is one of the fiftieth thousand of "The Great West." 
John Fetter. 
Fort Dodge, la.— I was very much pleased with your 
article on that book so dear to my memory, "The Great 
W^e t." 1 read this book about thirty years ago the first 
time. The last time was last Sunday, after reading your 
article in Forest and Stream, for I am fortunate enough to 
have the identical volume which so greatly interested me 
when a boy. The book was one of the chief treasures of 
my father, who, as regularly as the season approached when 
the leaves fall, would get out "The Great West" and read 
the article which treats of hunting among the pioneers. 
When he had finished he would say, "That is as true as 
gospel. I feel just that way myself." This remark was 
always followed by an inspection of his rifle and hunting 
accouterments, and soon after that by an excursion to the 
woods. 
Soon after my father's death my mother came to visit me 
and brought me the book. One cover was gone, but the 
book is all there except seven pages, missing from the articles 
on "The Great American Wilderness" and the "Earthquake 
at New Madrid." What memories that book awakened! 
Again, as in boyhood days, I scouted with Kenton and 
W^hetzel. I hunted with Boone, and with Fremont explored 
the unknown regions of the Rockies. The oak openings 
across the road from my father's house (I was raised in 
Michigan) was "the dark and bloody ground" of Kentucky. 
The brook, long since gone dry, was the Ohio acro.as whicii 
we pursued the retreating redskins, and on finding ourselves 
in a dark and gloomy tamarack swamp retreated ourselves, 
fearing ambuscade, in our minds, but really afi-aid of the 
gloomy shadows of the close tamaracks. 
The line of snow banks, which in winter filled the lan@ 
leading to the lower fields and wood lot, were the snow- 
capped peaks over which we toiled with Fremont, frozen and 
starved, our boats and mittens filled with Snow and an ach- 
ing void in our stomachs until, descending the last peak, we 
found ourselves in reach of suCcor. For wei-e we not then in 
the barnyard? No, this was Bent's Fol-t, and the log hoUsfi 
was the hospitable trading post, where wte soon ftlrgot our 
trials, thawed our frozen cowhide boots and filled the afore- 
said void with apples and doughnuts. Why can't we haVe 
such times now? Why, don't doughnuts and apples taste 
just as they did then? Last Christnlas I ate apples from the 
same trees and doughnuts which rhy mother fried, but some- 
how they did nbt touch the spot as they did thirty-five years 
ago. 
I started to tell you I was glad that one whom I have 
known, through Forest and Stream, since he failed to slay 
the Phantom Buck of Baxter's Peak, had been able once 
more to read the treasured pages of "The Great West." It 
gives me almost as much pleasure to know that the longing 
of a kindred spirit for that book of books has been gratified 
as it did to have the book put in my hands and know it was 
mine, and above all I rejoice to know that "The Great West" 
still abides among men who treasure it as it deserves. My 
copy goes to the binder to-day, a binder in our town too, 
mind you. This book don't go out of town. It will get nevs*^ 
covers and be securely fastened, for it is not right that a 
good thing should perish from the earth. 
C. A. Bryant. 
Jamestown, 0.— In Forest and Stream of Feb. 27 you 
write of a book that you read when a boy, and of your search 
for the book since that time. I have the book, and have read 
it many a time when a boy; for it was my father's, but now 
belongs to me. The stout leather backs have been sewed on 
it more than once, Marion Harness. 
TacoMA, Wash, — ^Your letter of Feb. 12 in Forest AND 
Stream, entitled "The Story of a Book," was very interest- 
ing to me. It moves me to write you personally. I have a 
copy of "The Great West," Vol. L, 1852, and at the top of the 
title page are the words "Twentieth thousand." There ig 
much of that letter that fits my case. The reference to Mc- 
Guffy's readers and the number of times you read the book 
are just the experiences that I went through. Although 
not a subscriber, I have read the Forest and Stream for a 
number of years. Have often wished that I had the ability 
to put my thoughts on paper in a readable shape. But it 
does not take much ability, just common sense, to express 
the following sentiment: I believe in stopping the sale of 
game. I saw the chickens and quail exterminated (perhaps 
that is a little strong) in eastern Iowa to supply the Chicago 
market. Last fall there was an article in Forest and 
Stream about "the old-time chicken dog." Although I do 
not know how old a man the writer is, it really seems to me 
that he shot over Duke, a dog that my father, brothers and 
myself hunted with in eastern Iowa twenty years ago, he 
describes his faults and qualities so accurately. 
If you know of some "still-hunter" who can describe a 
successful or unsuccessful hunt as fully as some fishermen 
describe the capture of a trout or salmon, just get him to 
write up a trip or two for the Forest and Stream. I can 
hear the reel humming when I read some of their letters. 
My boyhood hunting and fishing days were spent on the 
Wapsiepinicon, in eastern Iowa, the favorite hunting 
ground of a small tribe of Indians called Musquawkies. 
MUSQUAWKIE. 
Tacoma, Wash. 
[Here we go again! The Musquawkies also used to trap 
muskrata all over the old Skunk River bottoms, where 
my father and my brothers and I used to hunt and fish in 
Iowa!] 
Cleveland, O.— Have noted with interest your research 
for the "Great West" book, and also your final success in ob- 
taining it. I have identically the same publication, with ex- 
ception that mine is number "fifty-fifth thousand," and 
published in 1855. Covers have gone, and in fact I had 
almost forgotten its existence until your recent "Chicago 
and the West" article struck me so forcibly. If you wish a 
mate to your "Yellow Indian" please let me know if con- 
venient, and I will be pleased to forward ib to you and "say 
nothing." Robert Nichols. 
Carteret, N. J., March 18.— I have read with interest 
your article, "The Story of a Book," in Forest and Stream. 
I have in my possession a book entitled "The Great West," 
enlarged edition of 576 pages, by Henry Howe, published in 
1858. I see that Mr Kephart, in his letter to you dated 
Feb. 1, makes no mention of this edition. Prom your de- 
scription my book is the same as yours, with some additions. 
My book is in perfect condition, except that most of the 
pages are somewhat stained by age. 
In the preface it is stated by the author that there have 
been over 80,000 copies of this work sold; so, from that vast 
number, it seems strange that so few have been heard from. 
No doubt, in giving this book such great publicity through 
Forest and Stream, you will receive many letters similar 
to this. 
Hoping it will give you some pleasure to know that there 
is another of these books in existence, I remain 
0. A. Wehrlt. 
The Public Library of tab City of Boston, Feb. 26. 
—-You may be pleased to learn that this library possesses 
two editions — 1851 and 1857— of Henry Howe's "Historical 
Collections of the Great West," which you describe with so 
much enthusiasm in your interesting letter to i'OREST AND 
Stream of this week. John Murdoch. 
Manchester, N. H., March 2. — After reading your very 
interesting account of "Collections of the Great Wpst," I 
visited the bookstore under the Old South Church in Boston 
and got a good copy of the book (thirty-fourth thousand) 
for a .$1 bill, and found it in the first store where I inquired 
after it, which was certainly "Forest and Stream luck." 
As you show such interest in the book I feel sure you would 
like to know more of its compiler, and if you will write to 
Mr. Robert O'Brien, 604 East Capitol street, Washington, 
D. C, 1 think you may draw out some interesting reminis- 
cences of Mr. Howe. Mr. O'Brien is now well on toward 
ninety years of age, but is still able to write very interesting 
letters, as his correspondence with my father proves. 
Mr. O'Brien and Mr. Howe, the compiler of your book, 
were great friends many years ago, and I think it more than 
likely that Mr. O'Brien engraved most of the illustrations in 
your book, as he was one of the best wood engravers of hia 
day. If you write Mr. O'Brien tell him that your corre- 
spondent is a son of Henry W. Herrick, and you will be sure 
of a reply. Henry A. Herrick. 
P. S.— -1 see that O'Brien engraved the frontispiece. You 
will find his name at the lower right hand corner. 
H. A. H. 
East Hampton, L. I., N. Y., Feb. 29.— In the last number 
of the Forest and Stream I notice an articl« entitled "The 
Story of a Book." You begun by saying, "When I was a 
boy I had a book. It was the first book I ever really and 
truly read. " I read your article— the whole of it — and reread 
it — the whole of it — and experienced the same feelings over 
again that I did when I first read the same book over thirty 
years ago, and which I now have in my possession, within 
reach of my hand at present writing. When I read your 
atory I felt a friend had been found, though never seen by 
