Aug. 7, 1897.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
108 
Wolf's band, and we did take forly-two lodges of them, but 
really there were a few of his Indians who did not surrender 
at the time. Of these some came in later and gave them- 
selves up, but there were some who did not surrender at all. 
As late as June of that summer (1879) near Eort Keogb, 
some of these fire eaters surprised a party of signal service 
men who were out a little way from the post, and tilled the 
sergeant of the party. For this they were pursued and cap- 
tured, and later tried. They were sentenced to death, three 
of them, and were confined in the prison, or guard house. 
One morning they were all three found dead in their room. 
They had had no weapon left them, ^nd at first it was a 
mystery how they had killed themselves, till it was seen that 
one was hanging by the neck, and that the others had been 
choked to death. Then it wa^s a mystery how the other 
two had been choked, till it was seen by the thin 
marks on their necks they had been hung with the same 
cord which was suspending the Indian found hanging. 
Those three men had determined that they would not 
die at the hand of the white men, and had resolved to kill 
themselves. They had nothing to do this with except their 
moccasin strings, and these were not strong enough unless 
they were joined together. So they all three took off their 
moccasin strings and twisted them all together, making a 
rope strong enough to support the weight of a man. The 
flr&t Indian had hung himself this way, by the neck, fasten- 
ing the thong to the grating of the window. He had to 
swing himself down on his knees to hang himself this way, 
but he did it, and the others must have sat there and watched 
him do it. After he was dead, the nest man took the thong 
and hung himself in the same way until he too was dead. 
Then the last man took the rope and so hung himself, and 
was found as I said, no one being there to relieve him of tl e 
cord. 
"Now you talk about hero stories. Maybe no Indi.an can 
be a hero. But I allow that from their standpoint those men 
.had plenty of courage and determination, and it suits me 
well enough to call them heroes." 
There never was anything in any of Billy's talk which 
savored in Ihe least of boasting or bravado, and he always 
preferred talking about some one else than himself. But I 
wonder if it is generally known who was the man who 
really found the Cheyennes on their northern flight, and 
who stopped them and brought them to retribution? I have 
never read anywhere that it was Billy Jackson, though per- 
haps Gen. Miles may have mentioned him in his report. So 
we were getting a little unwritten history of the plains, per- 
haps, this windy day in the lodge 
After Billy's story of the three Cheyenne suicides, none of 
us felt much like any further story telling for a while, but 
Billy broke out a laughing after a while. 
Tom Campbell's Busy Day. 
"i can't help thinking of a funny thing that happened 
once, up at old Fort Union, near the mouth of the Yellow- 
stone. The Assinaboines caught one of our men who wanted 
:to be a scout, and they had fun with him. They threw 
Mm into a bed of prickly pear, and Tom Campbell, that 
was his name, was full of thorns for weeks, so full he 
couldn't lie down. The whole force at the post took turns 
picking the thorns out of Tom, and when anybody was- out 
of a job for the time, it was fashionable to borrow a pair of 
tweezers and help pull thorns out of Tom. My, but his dis- 
FBIENDSHtP. 
position was riled by that! We used to have a little fun 
now and then, you see, back in the old times, though we did 
have to wear our sis shooters when we went to prayers." 
And so we passed one no-hunting day. At 4= o'clock in 
the afternoon the wind began to puff itself out, finally lull- 
ing so that we dared go outside. We dug away the snow 
from about the lodge, fixed up the lodge floor with diy 
boughs, put down a few trout to bake under the ashes, and 
set a shoulder of sheep to swinging above the flre on a rope. 
Gradually the shoulder began to sizzle and grow brown. 
Gradually our appetites waxed keener. Gradully the coffee- 
pot began to send forth odors which blended with those 
from the shoulder of sheep. So we forgot the nrants of Ai- 
so-pora stan for the time. E. Hough. 
laoe BoYCK BraLDiKQ, Chicago. 
Stolen Sweets. 
A VAJLT3ED correspondent, who shall be nameless, thus 
pointedly expresses a state of affairs, familiar to most owners 
of preserved woods or waters : 
"In closing, would say that we use the preserve as a sum- 
mer home, and do not particularly care to have it brought 
into publicity sufficient to bring outside sportsmen in there. 
'We find it hard enough now to keep away the natives, who 
■ Ihmk that if they can only get a hook into our lakes, they 
can take away all the trout they can carry— simpiv because 
It IS protected, I suppose on the principle that the more djf- 
ncult.a thing is of attainment the more it is desired." 
THE BEE HUNTERS. 
We had cast our flies to the very headwaters of Elk Eufl 
(the last three or four miles in "green timber,'" i. e., virgin 
forest), and had transferred about two dozen speckled beau- 
ties to our baskets. Then at Lingo's suggestion we struck 
across the "divide" into the valley of Cook Run, intending 
to follow down that stream to its confluence with the Rich 
River, into which also Elk Run emptied. This divide was 
the very summit of the Alleghanies, at this point a plateau 
about a mile wide on the west, descending gradually to the 
Ohio, on the east breaking abruptly by tremendous gorges 
inio the valley of the Susquehanna. 
We found a bear wallow and a bear trap, and came after 
a while to a circular opening in the forest about a rod in 
diameter, in which the trees had been leveled by the axe, and 
lay about in all directions. 
"Ah!" said Lingo, "a bee opening, and there is where they 
spread the honey to take the bees." 
He pointed to a stump in the center of the clearing cut 
with a level surface and about 5ft. above the ground. 
''The bee hunter spreads a little honey on that stump and 
waits Presently a bee flying by smells it, or is attracted by 
TALKING. 
the clearing and alights on the stump. As soon as he has 
gathered a load the busy little worker rises and makes a bee- 
line for his store in some old, hollow tree. The hunter 
notes the direction taken and follows, keeping a wary eye 
out for a bee tree. If he does not find it after going a cer- 
tain distance, he makes another opening and repeats the op- 
eration, and so on until he finds the tree. There are prob- 
ably two of them, and they are armed with a double bitted 
axe, a great, wide-bottomed basket for the honey and gauze 
veils for the hands and face. The bee tree is probablv some 
hollow giant of the forest, with a knot-hole 60 or 70ft. up, 
where the bees enter. One of the hunters bares his arms 
and the sturdy strokes of the axe ring out. It is only a shell 
and soon topples to its fall. The men stand one side, out of 
reach of the dead timber, and the trunk lumbers to earth, 
broken into half a dozen pieces, the bees swarm out; but the 
veiled men pay little attention to them, they quickly open a 
cavity around the bees' front door and transfer the honey to 
their basket. I think I can find the tree these particular 
hunters were after, if you would like to follow the trail." 
He jumped upon the stump and took a long look about, 
then plunged into the thick forest, I following. 
Just north of us the great hemlocks and birches we had 
been traveling under changed to a dense growth of young 
timber, chiefly beech, birch, poplar, black birch and wild 
cherry, quite distinct from the forest proper. Lingo said 
that a tornado had probably leveled it, and then tire had 
started and consumed the dead tops and fallen trunks, after 
which this new growth had sprung up. Several hundred 
yards away, however, rose several gigantic white birches 
which had escaped the general destruction, and still towered 
a hundred feet m air, but old, very old, moss-grown, and 
dead at the top. My guide led the way thither, and as we 
cimeto them successively scanned each scarred and mature 
trunk. There were holes in them that might have sheltered 
whole colonies of bees, but there were no signs of their pres- 
ence. 
"There it is," he said, presently, pointing to a mammoth 
white birch, prostrate and broken into several pieces by its 
fall. About midway of it a great cleft had been cut in the 
trunk, and pieces of comb still adhering to it and to the 
chips, gave evidence of the tragedy enacted therein. 
"It was a good hour's work to fell that tree," said Lingo, 
examining it with the eye of a practiced woodsman, "and 
half an hour's work to cut the cleft. Then they had to tote 
the honey a good ten miles to the nearest settlement." 
"How many pounds do you think the tree yielded?" I 
"Oh, perhaps 201bs." 
"And what became of the poor bees?" 
"Oh, they found other quarters no doubt and went to 
laying up new stores. They are used to being despoiled, for 
bears rob them whenever they get a chance. They climb 
the bee tree, thrust in their paws, and withdraw them 
covered with honey ; then lick off the sweets quite oblivious 
of the stings of the enraged bees, unless one gets stung on 
the nose, when his antics are laughable." 
"Did you ever know bees hive anywhere except in a 
hollow tree, in caves or crevices of cliffs, for instance?" I 
asked. 
"No, I never did," he replied. 
"I once found a colony of bees in the crevices of a huge 
crag in New England, and there were indications of a large 
store of honey ; but as a ton of dynamite would have been 
required to open the rock we could not determine the exact 
amount. This is the only instance that ever came to my 
knowledge." 
We looked around in the hoary old trunks for signs of an- 
other bee tree, but failed to fiind any. 
"If I had a little honey," said Lingo, "I would make an 
opening and try for a tree myself, just to show you how it is 
done." Chas. Buee Todd. 
ALGONQUIN PARK DESECRATION. 
ToiiEDO, O., July 27. — Editor Forest and Stream: I have 
been much interested by your correspondent's account of 
Algonquin Park. I refer to Dr. McCallum, and to the very 
interesting letter in your issue of June 26, I have been sad- 
dened by it as well. I have made three trips through the 
district named, and at different times spent almost a year 
there, and have been saddened by the fact that the grandeur 
of setting aside a tract of primitive wilderness, of such rare 
beauty, should be made a piece of flimsy mockery, by the 
petty spirit of utilitarianism, so often justly laid at the door 
of "The States." 
I refer to the fact which your correspondent mentions as 
merely incidenfal, viz. : "Only the pines have been sold, and 
no other forest groves will be touched." 
I am compelled to conclude that Mr. McCallum does not 
know the effect of removing "only the pine." The loss of 
those noble trees is bad enough, and pine is a large propor- 
tion of the growth from Ox Tongue Lake to White Trout, 
but the mutilation and defacing of the landscape in getting 
out the pine is a hundredfold worse. 
Canoe Lake, when I last saw it, was a charming bit of 
natural loveliness — wooded' to its brink with grand old 
pines, the beautiful Muskoka coming in from Big Joe 
Lake at one end, and out to Tea Lake at the other. In its 
center a wooded island, christened by us "Toledo Island," 
commanding all the shore — an ideal place for a camp. 
Around the lake were confidential little bays, where water 
lilies grew, and where deer came to eat the buds. The lake 
was full of fish and the fish hawk was thoroughly at home. 
There were many dehghtful little trips to be taken on Canoe 
Lake : to Smoke Lake, Big and Little Joe, and Doe Lake — 
each had its wild, untouched charms. I make all this in the 
past tense, for it is all gone forever. Here is a picture of the 
lake, drawn by Thomas Salmon, in 1896, one of our guides, 
as fine a fellow as ever stopped a buck or reeled in a Ar 
pounder— and that is praise indeed— and withal a lover of 
nature, with a tender appreciation of its beauties. I quote: "I 
was thinking the other day, as I came through Canoe Lake, 
about the times we had there. Now, I doubt if you would 
know the lake; all the pine around it is gone. The island 
we used to camp on has hardly anything green on it. You 
remember where you shot the old doe— in the bay back of the 
island — that we did not get until! next morning, and I skinned 
her, and the wolves ate her up the next night? Well, that 
is all being cleared up from there to the river mouth, com- 
ing in from Big Joe Lake, and a big sawmill going up. 
Verily, the Canadian Government knows how to run a 
national park. There is a big dam and lumber depot at Tea 
Lake Falls. The big sand beach at the head of Canoe Lake 
is covered by water. The pine around it is all cut away, 
where we used to get the partridges. An amphibious steam 
alligator cavorts around those lakes now, so you can imagine 
what a breeding ground for game our National Park is. 
There is also a railroad running — or will be next summer — 
diagonally through the park from southeast to northwest, 
touching Canoe Lake at the upper end, and also Smoke 
Lake. The river from here has also been "improved;" a big 
lumber chute runs right down the center of the two falls, above 
Ox Ton sue Lake. Going up the river in the summer time 
was, last year, an impossibility; you couldn't float a canoe 
after the drive came down, which finished the last of July. 
BOTJNTY. 
"Instead of the musical snort of the buck or the 'you'd- 
better-go-round' of the bull-frog, the steam whistle will charm 
the ear of the camper. Truly, after all the pleasant times 
we used to have, came the Deluge, for everything is flooded. 
You could go with your canoe where we used to stretch 'our 
tent." 
There is the whole story of desecration — can anything be 
sadder? To the north of Canoe Lake, at Catfish and the 
Mud Lakes, maj'^ be seen the blasting effects to the country, 
of taking out the pine by damming; it was taken out there 
twenty or thirty years ago. 
The.«e lakes, as they are now, would have delighted Edgar 
Allen Poe, It is the "ghoul haunted woodland of Weir," 
the "dark tarn of Auber." The timber is killed 40ft. back 
from the lakes, and the pines, hemlocks and cedars stretch 
their whitened, shriveled arms to heaven, as if asking the 
night to come and conceal the nakedness and desolation. 
The country is given over to the heron and the wolf. 
Algonquin Park will be like a beautiful face seared with a 
red-hot iron. There may be beauty left, but it will be in 
ruins. A. J. Sbcor. 
Death of John P. Liovell. 
.JoHX P. LovELi/, head of the John P. Lovell Arms Co., 
•f Boston, died at his home in East Weymouth, 
Mass. , on July 39, aged seventy-seven years. Mr. Lovell 
was one of the oldest, best known and most highly respected 
men in- the gun trade, and was counted Tamong Boston's 
representative merchants. His was a well rounded life 
