442 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
? [JtJWE 5, 1897. 
THE CHESTNUT RIDGE 
And Along Its Foot.— II» 
I SHOULD not think the region of the Chestnut Ridge could 
ever have been a good country for fox hunting— except for 
the fox; the pround was so broken and so overgrown with 
trees and thickets of underbrush that it would seem to have 
been almost impossible for a mounted huntsman to push his 
way across. Nevertheless, the sport had its devotees; one 
of the most conspicuous and best known of whom was old 
Sheiiff M. The sheriff was a large-boned, dark-complex- 
ioned man who talked a little thick, as though he had "a 
mitten on his tongue." He had always a fine horse or two in 
his stable and a pack of hounds in the yard. The favorite 
animal of this troop was one he called Sing, or, as he pro- 
nounced it, Thing. The joy of the old man's heart was to 
gather up a half-dozen cronies and canter off to hunt the fox 
along the foot of the ridge. 
On one memorable occasion, so the legend runs, the sheriff 
and his favorite hound distinguished themselves. The chase 
had been long and arduous. For several hours the fox had 
led over the hills and through the thickets with Sing and the 
sheriff in hot pursuit. But at length it was evident from the 
yelling of the pack that Reynard had been run to earth. 
The sheriff was in advance of his companions. J umping 
from his horse and scrambling through a clump of bushes 
he came to the spot where the dogs were baying and yelling 
around the end of a hollow log that lay upon the ground. It 
was clear that the fox had sought refuge in this log. Stoop- 
ing down and looking in, the hindquarters of a large animal 
were dimly to be seen. The sheriff was excited. "Here 
Thing! Here Thing!" he shouted; "the biggeth fox lever 
thaw !" and reaching in he drew out, not the fox. but the 
identical hound that he was so wildly calling, The dog had 
crawled into the log as far as he could go, after the fox, the 
latter, meanwhile, had crept through an opening in the log 
30ft. above and was gone. The laugh was on the sheriff, 
and it was long before he heard the last of "the biggeth 
fox." 
Another sportsman well-known in that region forty years 
ago was a little, old, weather-beaten fisherman of the Cone- 
maugh. He had a thin, wizened face, long elf locks, and 
wore, summer and winter, rain or shine, an old sloiich hat 
and a broad leather apron. I do not remember ever seeing 
him without this leather apron. In it he always carried the 
fish that he caught. It was a common thing, as one rambled 
along the shore of the river, to come across this old man re- 
clining in some sequestered nook, watching his fish poles, 
which were "set" not far distant. 
1 think he was an inoffensive old man^ as became a dis- 
ciple of the immortal Izaak, and only when he was badgered 
by the village boys as he carried his fish through the streets 
in his apron did he lose his characteristic patience and turn 
upon his tormentors. "But past is all his fame." If I remem- 
ber rightly, he was found dead one day on the bank of the 
river that he had so long frequented. It seems a fitting place 
for him to die. Perhaps if he could have had his choice he 
would have preferred no other spot. ■ 
Prior to the construction of the line of public improve- 
ments through the valley of the Conemaugh, a turnpike road 
leading from Philadelphia to Pittsburg had been made. It 
was called the Northern Turnpike, and was the great artery 
through which flowed the stream of traffic and travel between 
the East and the West. Before this highway was constructed 
only rude country roads existed, which were little more than 
vistas cut through the forests, some of the worst places being 
"corduroyed" — that is, made passable by laying the trunks 
of small trees side by side across the swampy spot?— but 
•otherwise almost impassable by reason of the stumps of trees 
and the rocks that were left in situ. Frederick Post, travers- 
ing this region in the fall of 1758, describes one of the roads 
as "the worst that ever was traveled," and one of his horses 
lost his footing and "rolled down the hill like a wheel." A 
near relative of mine came with her father's family early 
la the present century from the Lake George region in north- 
ern New York into this part of western Pennsylvania They 
came by wagon over the country roads, such as they were, 
and were six weeks on the way. They lodged in the houses 
of the settlers along the road where houses were to be found, 
otherwise they camped out and slept in and under the wagon. 
I recall the interest with which she invested her narrative ; 
it was much such an adventure as I suppose a wagon ride 
would now be across the upper half of Wisconsin, The cen- 
sus of 1830 gave Pennsylvania a population of only a little 
over 1,000,000. ^ 
As the railroad was a vast improvement upon the canal, 
and the canal upon the turnpike, so the last was an im- 
mense improvement upon the primitive road. TIegoj in his 
"Geography of Pennsylvania," 1843, grows enthusiastic over 
the advantages of the lately constructed turpike road. "In 
order to contrast the former times and facilities with the 
present," he says, "it maybe mentioned that before turn- 
pikes were constructed it required a good team of five or six 
horses from eighteen to twenty-five days to transport from 
2,500 to 3,5001bs. of goods from Philadelphia to Pittsburg. 
On the completion of the turnpike across the mountains, the 
load of a wagon was increased to 6,000 or 8,000ibs., and the 
trip was made in twelve or fifteen days." 
Villages and wayside inns sprang up as by magic all along 
the new highway. Long lines of broad-tired, canvas-topped 
Conestoga wagons drawn by teams of six or eight horses 
with tinkling bells moved slowly but picturesquely across 
the Pennsylvania hills between the remote cities at either 
end. At night these put up at the aforesaid inns, or ' 'tav- 
erns," as they were more commonly called, where the team- 
sters had much rude sport while the horses stood champing 
their oats in the moonlight beside the wagons. It was a 
common sight in our village when I was a boy. It reminded 
one of Homer : 
"A thousand fires burned on the plain, and by each 
Sat fifty in the light of the blazing fire; 
And horses eating white barley and corn, 
Standing by the chariots, awaited fair-throned Aurora." 
This translation is by that fine fellow Henry D. Thoreau 
one of the specially favored high priests of nature. ' 
A name honorably associate! with this part of the country 
is that of Dr. R. M. 8. Jackson. This gentleman was dis- 
tinguished as a physician and scientist. He was a member 
of the first gtological survey corps of the State, and is 
spoken of by Prof. Lesley, m his "Historical Sketch of 
Geological Explorations," as a man of "singular but erratic 
genius," who set aside a geological theory maintained until 
his time, "after a thorough examination of the case with 
eyes from the glance of which nothing escaped, and with a 
brain never excelled." I well remember Dr Jackson, His 
chief identification with this section is through his book, 
"The Mountain," a stout volume of nearly 650 pages, which 
treats of the fauna, the flora, and other natural character- 
istics of the Allegheny range. This book is a singular 
melange of wit, learning and curious remark. He was 
founder of the sanitarium known far and wide as Cresson 
Springs, on the mountain top, on the line of the Pennsyl- 
vania Railroad. When the Civil War broke out Dr. Jack- 
son offered his services to his country. He became surgeon- 
in-chief of the Army of the Cumberland, and died near 
Chattanooga in 1863, shortly after the battle of Lookout 
Mountain. 
That part of the Pennsylvania canal system which, lay in 
the Conemaugh Valley, consisted of alternating stretches of 
levels and of slack-water pools. There were ten dams across 
the stream, which afforded about twenty miles of slack- 
water navigation These pools formed broad, smooth sheets 
of water which lay among the hills, reflecting the wooded 
heights in their mirror-like surfaces, and as picturesque as 
Highland lochs. Tne navigation of a canal is ordinarily and 
naturally free enough from peril ; but occasionally, in times 
of high freshets, the navigation of the slack-water was not 
entirely without danger. More than one canal boat was 
carried over these dams, to the ruin of the boat and the loss 
of human life. 
As I began this little paper with an anecdote of one of the 
old-timers, I may as well close it with another Among the 
residents of our village was an old colored individual who 
was proverbially lazy. It seemed necessary, however, that 
he should do something, and casting about in his mind for 
an easy job, it occurred to him that steering a canal boat 
was about as near doing nothing as anything he could get at. 
He secured this desirable position. He had been but a few 
hours aboard when the boat entered one of the dams. The 
water was high, and the captain, putting the tiller into the 
hands of his new auxiliary, descended into the cabin for his 
breakfast. In a very short time the boat gave a great 
thump, and running up the stairs the captain found the bow 
of the boat up against the tow path ; the stern, carried out by 
the force of the current, was swirling out half-way across 
the river, while his steersman was hanging on manfully to 
the tiller. 
"Hello, you old black scoundrel," cried the captain, ex- 
citedly, "I thought you said you could steer a boat!" 
"So I kin, sah," replied the imperturbable darkey, "so I 
kin, sah; dat is not my fault, sah; dat is de bow's man's 
fault, my end is out far enough I" T. J. Chapman 
PiTTSBCBG, Pa. 
ON THE EDGE OF THE GRAN CHACO. 
TOLD BY WILLIAM KINGSBURY TO WILLIAM H. AVIS. 
Chapter II. 
The sun had just risen when we reached the edge of a 
long Canada and we could see the river a mile and a half 
away. The road was now lined with algarrobo trees, 
from whose limbs hung yellowish pods Gin. in length. 
These pods are eagerly eaten by cattle, horses and other 
animals. 
We crossed the river on a flat-bottomed ferryboat and 
struck off along the river bank. We were now getting 
into a wilder country, and as we progressed we saw many 
flocks of pigeons and gaudily-colored paroquets. While 
we had met mostly pampas land heretofore, our route now 
led through alternating patches of thick monte and high- 
grassed meadow land. Then again we would occasionally 
sight an ostrich or deer. As it would have been wanton 
slaughter to kill any of the larger game, for we wished to 
travel as light as possible and not to load the horses down 
with meat, we let the ostriches and deer go unmolested. 
We well knew that we were bound for a section where they 
were plenty and the meat could be used. 
That noon we stopped in the shade cast by the foliage of 
a large algarrobo tree. When the horses had been turned 
loose to feed upon the rich, succulent grass that bordered 
the river's bank, and while Jim skirmished for fuel for a 
fire, I hunted up some fishing tackle, and after baiting the 
hook with a piece of raw meat went to the river and cast 
in. Presently the line tightened with a dull, heavy tug, 
then, as it commenced to swerve slowly to the right, I gave 
a quick jerk and found I had hooked something. As I 
hauled in hand over hand the line gyrated sluggishly in 
the water, and I soon landed a catfish that weighed in the 
neighborhood of 61bs. Casting in again I soon had its 
mate, and as we now had more fish than we could possibly 
eat, I quit. 
Unlike the catfish of our own countrj' the flesh of the 
catfish of the Salado River has a very fine flavor. Tbie is 
because the waters of the Salado are salt. Instead of black 
this fish is a very light gray. From the river Parana I 
have seen them taken as heavy as ISOlbs, 
We spitted the fish and broiled them over the coals 
until they had the delicate, brownish hue of perfectly 
cooked fish. 
The country through which we passed that afternoon 
was similar to that of the morning, but wilder. As we 
drew further away from civilization game of all descriptions 
appeared in greater quantity. Deer and ostrich grew more 
numerous. While we were passing through a monte we 
were startled by a sudden stir in the thick undergrowth 
nearby, and a large puma ajjpeared to view bounding off 
into the forest's depths; he disappeared so quickly that we 
were unable to get a shot at him. We also saw a great ant- 
hill, which showed indications of haying been visited by a 
great ant bear. 
We camped under a giant ombu tree, and after the camp 
had been established I repaired to the river and soon 
secured a good mess of catfish. Jim in the meantime had 
shot half a dozen pigeons from a nearby tree with the 
Parker. 
When we finally sought our blankets, we were unable 
to obtain much sleep on account of the stranee and some- 
times fierce sounds which emanated from the depths of 
the wild, thick monte, on the edge of which we were en- 
camped. 
Next morning, as we were crossing a low Canada where 
the long grass grew so rank and high in places that we 
were unable to see over its top from the saddle, Jim dis- 
covered an ostrich nest half full of egg shells. Near the 
nest we we found half a dozen bad eggs, which plainly in- 
dicated that the old bird had done hatching for the season. 
The nest was fully a yard in diameter, and was buUt up 
from the ground in a sort of mound shape. The top was 
scooped out saucer-like, and was filled with soft grass. 
Now we know that as a general thing ostriches do not 
build nests in this manner; therefore, we concluded that 
the birds who had built in such a peculiar shape must 
have had some reason for it. Whether we were right or 
wrong, we finally concluded that as the cafiada was more 
or less covered with water during the rainy season, the 
old birds had built the nest mound-shape in order to keep 
the eggs dry. 
The grass in which we found the nest is very common 
throughout the pampas of the Argentine Republic. Start- 
ing in bunches from the ground in the springtime, it grows 
to a height of 2Jft., and is very luxuriant. The blade 
starting wide at the base, gradually tapers to an extreme 
point. Out of the center of each bunch of grass grows a 
number of long reeds, which average fully 9ft. in height. 
The tips of these reeds are surmounted by long, drooping, 
feather-like flowers, which, in the fall of the year, look 
like silver. The effects of the sun's rays shining upon 
miles and miles of these waving plumes is beautiful be- 
yond description, and can only be likened to light trem- 
bling on a boundless sea of scintillating silver. Among all 
this beauty, however, lurk many dangers, for here the 
scorpion, centipede, tarantula and different varieties of 
reptiles find homes. It also shields from view (in the 
wilder sections of the country) the puma, jaguar (or 
South American lion), the hungry wolf, and other fierce 
beasts. 
That evening we reached San Justo, which is a typical 
Argentine Republic frontier town. It is near the edge of 
the Gran Chaco, and is also near the Salado River. While 
leisurely passing through the town, we suddenly heard the 
advancing clatter of an approaching horse. We were ex- 
ceedingly surprised to have a fully accoutred vigilante, or 
frontier policeman, dash up to us, and inform us in Span- 
ish that we must go with him. We asked him how had 
we broken the law, and he said that the captain would ex- 
plain when we reached the quartel, or police station. 
After considerable argument we found there was no es- 
cape, so we went with him. 
Having reached police headquarters, which we found to 
be a long, low, white-washed building near the plaza, we 
were ordered to dismount, and were immediately sur- 
rounded by half a dozen vigilantes. In the crowd was the 
commissario or captain, a dark, thin, wiry-looking individ- 
ual with a short, cropped beard and mustache. As we 
stood with our hands on our bridle reins, this individual 
questioned us closely as to our business and destination; 
he also made himself obnoxiously free in an examination 
ou our property. 
Jim finally grew hot under such treatment, and when 
he could stand it no longer, he showered upon the commis- 
sario and his horde such an explosive volley of expressive 
Spanish, as to cause them to stand gaping in jealous 
amazement at his wonderful ability to surpass even them- 
selves at that game. 
After the commissario had critically examined my Win- 
chester, and had plainly stated that it very much resem- 
bled one that had been stolen from him a year before, 
then it was my turn to grow hot. WhHe I do not lav 
claim to be able to command such an u'inbroken flow of 
adjectives as Jim can, still I fairly outdid myself in my 
eftbrts on this occasion to do the subject justice. I in- 
formed the commissario that nothing but the brain of an 
idiot would absorb the notion that any gtin manufactory 
built each gun differently. "This," I said, "could be easily 
understood by a jackass, as that animal has brains; but by 
a commissario— never!" Now it was the commissario's 
turn to grow hot, but he very soon cooled down when Jim 
informed him that we were friends of Don Pancho, 
Don Pancho was the principal ranchman of that neigh- 
borhood, and the most important individual in the com- 
munity, therefore, when Jim informed the commissario that 
we were on our way to the Don's estancia, he not only 
cooled down, but he immediately assumed a most polite 
and apologetic tone, and we were allowed to depart with- 
out further molestation. Jim's ready wit had saved us 
much trouble. As a general thing these petty oflScials 
make themselves exceedingly obnoxious in all parts of the 
Republic. Like many insignificant office holders in our 
own country, they absorb the idea that they are fearfully 
and wonderfully important. Apparently, such officials as 
these subsist more on boodle extracted from the pockets of 
the unwary than from their own salaries. , 
The sun had set before we left the town, and we hurried 
to cross the river before dark. When we had arrived at 
the outskirts of the town we hailed a passing native and 
inquired of hini the right direction to the river. After 
giving us full information he told us that we were on a 
dangerous road and that we stood a good chance of meet- 
ing thieves, especially after dark. We thanked him and 
continued on our way. Soon the moon rose and flooded 
the earth with silver. When we had arrived within 200 
or 300yds. of the toll bridge that spans the Salado we 
turned abruptly to the right and entered a thick monte. 
Here we prepared our camp for the night. 
We experienced a most miserable time that night fight- 
ing mosquitoes, but made up for lost slumber by sleeping 
well into the next forenoon. When finally we arose I 
went to the river to bathe and to fish, and Jim started off 
with his gun after birds. When I returned to camp with 
fish enough for breakfast, I found Jim there ahead of me. 
He was preparing some paroquets, which he had shot, for 
broiling over the coals. 
We reached San Antonio that evening and were wel- 
comed by our old friend Croft. The estancia Rincon de 
San Antonio is a large ranch, fully thirty miles in length 
and fifteen miles in its widest part. Thousands of head of 
cattle, horses and sheep are owned here. Croft, an Eng- 
lishman, was the principal ranchman on the place. 
We camped on the porch of the house that night, but 
obtained very little sleep. Not only were the mosquitoes 
nearly unendurable, but a band of Oorentinas arrived in 
the middle of the night with a large troop of cattle for the 
estancia. They killed a steer and cooked its flesh over a 
large fire. They made the night hideous with their wild 
howls and wilder carousals. 
The Corentinas are full-blooded Indians, and a wild lot 
they are, too. Very few of them speak Spanish. The 
reason for this is that the Jesuits learned the Oorentina's 
language when they settled among them; then they 
preached to them in their own language. 
We breakfasted with our friend Croft and his wife next 
