Aug. 14, 1897.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
123 
stood on the hiUside a mile below Blairsville, in a small clear- 
ing that had been made more by a windfall at some time 
than by the axe of any settler. 
It was a very suitable residence, however, for Zack Upson, 
proverbially the laziest man in the river valley. He had no 
family, but lived all alone except for his dog Bounce— a sad 
misnomer by the way, for there was scarcely a dog in the 
world that manifested so little disposition to "bounce" as he. 
The creature was likely a good enough cur originally, but 
living so long with Zack IJpson he had grown to be about 
as lazy and good-for-nothing as his master. There was not 
much trouble for a man to live in those days in the manner 
in which Upson lived. The woods were full of game and 
the river of fish, and as there were then no game laws Zack 
could shoulder his rifle or get out his rod and live wherever 
he choose and procure all the game or fish he could use. By 
disposing of a part of the proceeds of the day's hunting or 
fishing in the neighboring village or to the crews of passing 
canal boats, he was able to supply himself with ammunition 
and such other articles as the forests and streams did not fur- 
nish. But though too lazy to work, like most lazy people, 
he had a great desire to be rich. He hoarded every penny 
he could spare and gloated over it as if it had been a 
diamond of Golconda. Fifty times a day he would say to 
'himself: "Oh, I wish somebody would die and leave me 
some money." As he had not a relative or friend anywhere 
any better off than himself, this was a very absurd as well as 
a very wicked wish. 
One beautiful spring morning Zack took his fishing pole 
and tackle down to the river. It was a perfect day. The 
sun shone warm, and the fresh buds and half-grown leaves 
were tender and green. A soft, delicate haze lingered over 
the surface of the water; profound quiet reigned along the 
hillsides, broken only by the cheerful voices of the birds. A 
lover of nature would have rejoiced amid all this beauty and 
sweetness. But Zack Upson was as unconscious of it all as 
his old dog Bounce. Zack set his pole, and then reclining in 
an easy attitude prepared to wait for a bite. 
"0,1 wish somebody would die and leave me some money, " 
he sighed for the twentieth time that morning. Casting his 
eyes down along the river, he saw a man a quarter of a mile 
away, walking along the edge of the water. It was a very 
rare thing to see anybfidy down there, and Zack regarded 
him attentively as he approached. When he had come near, 
Zack saw that he was an old man and that he stooped very 
much as he walked. "How d'ye do?" he said to Zack, when 
he came up, "How are ye?" replied Zack. "It's a fine 
mornin'." "Yes," groaned the old man, as he attempted to 
shift a great bundle that he had strapped upon his back. 
"You seem to be tired," said Zack. "Won't you sit down a 
while and rest?" 
"No," replied the old man, groaDing again, "I can't stop. 
You'd be tired, too," said he, "if you had to carry this 
dreadful burden." "Have you carried it long?" asked Zack. 
"For more than thirty years," replied the old man. "Thirty 
years!" cried Zack, "that's a long time. "Yes, it is," replied 
the other, as he again painfully tried to shift the bundle. 
"Let me help you." said Zack, and he laid hold of the 
heavy package. But he instantly sprang away with a loud 
cry. "It's hot!" he exclaimed. "Yes, red-hot," said the old 
man, with a dreadful look of pain on his face. "What ia 
it?" cried Zack. ' 'Gold 1" exclaimed the old man, "gold, that 
I got by wishing somebody would die and leave me some 
money." . .,, 
Zack Upf on stayed to hear no more, but rushed from the 
spot toward his cabin, with Bounce at his heels. From his 
cabin door he looked down, but he could see nothing of the 
old man. 
"You must have been dreaming," some people replied, 
when he related the circumstance. "No, I was not dream- 
ing," Zack would stoutly maintain ; "besides, Bounce saw 
him as well as I." Anyhow, it did Zack Upson good. He 
never again wished that anybody would die and leave 
him a fortune. It made an impression on his mind that was 
never effaced. He left his cabin on the hillside, went into 
the town to live, and by his industry and good habits became 
a good citizen. As to the truth of the story there can be 
no doubt, as the hill on whose side Zack's cabin stood is 
there yet. 
The rivers of a country are scarcely less noticeable features 
m its topography than are its mountains, and seem to appeal 
more to the imagination than the latter. At least, the poets 
celebrate the streams much more frequently than the moun- 
tains. Perhaps these gentle beings are the best gauges of 
humau sentiment. Without aspiring to a place among them, 
I shall try my hand to the extent of a dozen lines or so com- 
memorative of my native stream : 
Thy wooded hills, fair Conemaugh, 
Still overlook the quiet pool. 
As, when escaped the master's law, 
We hurried from the village school; 
Aiid all forgot the bitter rule 
Of task and book in boyish glee; 
E'en terrors of the dunce's stool 
Were lost when we caught sight of thee. 
Thy wooded hills, fair Conemaugh, 
I oft revisit in my dream; 
Again I see, as erst I saw, 
The silver current of thy stream; 
Again the tiny ripples gleam, 
Where, breaking o'er the pebbly bar, 
The crystal wave reflects the beam 
And sparkles as the midnight star. 
These lines are not copyrighted, and I cocpmend them to 
the compilers of our school "Readers" and books of poetical 
gems. T. J. Chapman. 
PlTTSBUKG, Pa. 
An Angling Bishop. 
We read that Bishop Dudley (Episcopal), of Xentucky, 
when he was hunting and fishing recently, made the ac- 
quaintance of an old mountaineer, who took a great fancy to 
him without suspecting that he was a bishop. When the 
bishop was about to go home he invited the old man to 
come to Louisville to hear him preach. "Preach? Whut, 
you preach? Kin vou preach ez well ez you kin shoot an' 
fish?" "Better. No joke. Come Sunday with your best 
clothes, and I'll give you a front pew. " The old chap was 
there right up in front, and remained until the bitter end, 
after which he huiried forward to shake the bishop's hand, 
"Parson," he cried warmly, "I don't know a great deal 
about your creeds an' dogmatics, but I've riz and sot with 
you every timel" — J7te Outlook. 
SHEEP AND SNOWSHOES.-Vm. 
A Winter Hunt on the Summit of the Rockies. 
Au Large. 
Our big wind storm was followed by a sudden and won- 
derful change in the temperature of the air. We had met 
a Chinook wind, this taking the place of the cold fury of 
the wind which had harried us during the previous 
twenty-four hours. At the falling of the warmer wind 
the air was left bright and cheerful, and the mountains 
came into view distinctly. Schultz prophesied bad snow- 
shoeing, and rightly too, as we learned, for the penetrat- 
ting breath of the Chinook seemed to turn the enow half 
to water, so that it stuck to the webs most annoyingly, and 
made it necessary to carry a stick with whicht to rap con- 
tinually at the bows. Under such conditions, the shoer 
does not travel Avith ease, and the fretting over the snow- 
balls beneath the broad of his foot gives him as much 
wear and tear as twice the miles of distance. It is only 
the old snow-shoer, who is out all the time, and who ac- 
cepts all things as part of the day's work, who can keep 
his equanimity while his toes are pinched with a soggy 
but unyielding ridge of snow, and his heels are tilted with 
a like bump of ice behind. 
It was relief to get out of the lodge, and it was not late 
in the morning before, we were well scattered, going out 
over the country ati large, as the voyageurs say, with a 
view to finding what was ahead of us and around us. 
McChesney and O-to-ko-mi went up the mountains again 
to see if they could find the' much-delayed sheep, which 
was needful in that quarter. BiUy Jackson had set his 
heart on catching one of those big cats which were eating 
up the carcass of my sheep. Schultz and I were begin- 
ning to think it might be necessary to move further up 
into the Two Medicine country before McChesney got hia 
sheep, so we went directly up the valley to the falls of the 
creek, in search of a way over the creek and up the moun- 
tain beyond it to the headwaters country, where, accord- 
ing to all accounts, the chances were better for both sheep 
and goats. We made our way up through the level 
country, heavily timbered, which lay between us and the 
falls of the Two Medicine, and before noon stood at the 
foot of this singular cataract, one of the most remarkable 
ones I have ever seen, especially during the winter, at 
which season it is most beautiful. 
There are strung along the Two Medicine Creek, during 
its journey through the mountains, four deep and clear 
lakes, any one of which would be enough to fill the eye of 
either an artist or an angler. The largest of these lakes is 
the lowest one, and it was upon this lowest lake that we 
were encamped. Three miles or so above is the second 
lake, and this one is perhaps 200ft. or more higher than 
the one below. Between the two lakes there runs a vast 
ridge of rock, making a giant dam across the narrow valley 
and fencing back the foot of Rising Wolf Mountains. The 
Two Medicine Creek does not jump over this great cause- 
way, or at least it does not do so now, though once it may 
have done so. It has dug at the top and back of this dam 
so diligently that at last it has bored it entirely through. 
The whole stream appears upon the lower side of the dyke 
emerging from a round and cavernous opening in the 
face of the rocky wall, some 50ft., perhaps, above the sur- 
face of the great pool, into which it plunges in a broken, 
glittering mass of shattered waters, shining as though some 
great hand continually cast forth a stream of crushed pris- 
matic glass. The brilliant picture, at the time we saw it, 
had a striking frame of ice and snow. Heavy masses of 
snow covered the whole top of the great ridge, and 
shrouded the black pines and made a setting for the great, 
deep trout pool at the foot of the falls — one of the finest of 
the trout pools of the Rockies; for thus far the trout may 
come, and no further, though there are those who mention 
a tradition of the skeleton of a great fish found on the shore 
of the lake above. 
Schultz and I stood for a long time admiring the won- 
derful view at the falls, and at length went on with our 
undertaking to find a trail up the country. To the right 
of the falls the rocks rose up abruptly, but with something 
of mountain faith we imagined we could get up there 
somehow, so we tried it. We zigzagged up the face of 
the slope till we were far above the level of the falls, but 
then saw yet another ridge above us, which we followed 
until we were directly above the big pool, which boiled 
far down below us. Here the going got so steep that we 
had to evade the front before us — where a slip meant a 
long slide and a wet ending — and sought a side passage 
out of our troubles. But, though we crawled, and 
squirmed, and worked our way about by means of hang- 
ing on to the boughs of the trees which covered our slip- 
pery slope, we finally had to give it up, though we had 
found long ago that it would be impossible for a man with 
a pack to get half-way up the ridge in that direction; so 
that all thought of making camp above there was cut off 
for the time. It is always disappointing to fail to climb a 
hill when you want to, so we were much disgusted at 
being obliged to slide down this place after putting in a 
couple of hours trying to get over it. There was no alter- 
native for us, however, and, therefore, we started on down 
the creek, breaking trail in snow which was very deep and 
heavy, and looking all the time for a place to ford or 
bridge the creek which cut us oft from the hunting coun- 
try above. We saw a number of trees which had fallen 
I^art way across the creek, and figured that if we were 
forced to do so, we might, perhaps, manage to get 
over; but we found no very promising place for a loaded 
party to make a crossing. About the only thing we did 
was to discover that an otter was making the Two Medi- 
cine Creek his home for the time. This fact was evident 
by the deep drag he had made through a snowdrift divid- 
ing two stretches of open water. Here he had evidently 
traveled across several times, and once more we regretted 
the fact that we had brought in no steeltraps with us on 
this trip— in which we were remiss, for we could have 
taken considerable fur if we had gone at trapping in the 
right way. 
Assembly. 
Schultz and I got back to the lodge in the middle of the 
afternoon and joined Billy Jackson, who announced that 
he had set two snares for the cats up on the mountain, and 
that he was perfectly sure we would have fresh cat in less 
than forty-eight hours. He said that he had often known 
the lynx to be trapped in this way by the Crees in the 
wooded country of liie far Norths He said no one up there 
ever thought of bothering about a better trap than a snare 
to catch a lynx, so he felt sure we were due to have a lynx 
hung up sure before long. He said the cats, lions, or 
whatever it was, had fairly torn the whole country up 
about the sheep carcass; and that one of these cats had 
evidently been scared away that morning by McChesney 
and O-to-ko-mi, who had passed up the mountain not far 
from there. Billy also said that he thought McChesney 
had got his sheep, for he had heard two shots fired that 
morning, further up in the mountains above the place 
where we had killed the first ram. 
Hunter Powell had this day gotten back from below, and 
as he was disposed to go out fishing I joined him, and we 
got a few trout, one very good one of nearly 21bs., which I 
reserved for baking in the ashes that night. On the lake 
we met a strange white man, who said he was fishing too, 
that his name was Riley, that he lived at Midvale, and was 
up in that county living with old John Monroe and his 
wife. He said Monroe had just come up to his camp again 
from his ranch in the country below, and that maybe we 
would see him before long. Sure enough, we finally made 
out a couple of mounted figures coming up the lake on the 
ice, and saw that it was John and Madame Monroe. They 
had along about a half-dozen assorted dogs, and we met 
them at camp just in time to see a variegated dog fight, in 
which our dog Shep figured with results not always uni- 
formly satisfactory to himself. We now had quite a big 
party in camp, and according to lodge etiquette it devolved 
upon us to get out something to eat. I forget how many 
suppers we had that night, but I was in every one of them; 
and so far as I remember, I was just as hungry at the last 
as at the first. 
We were all eating one of these suppers, along about an 
hour after sunset, when we heard the shuflle of shoes out- 
side, and knew that McChesney and O-to-ko-mi were back. 
We had worried a good deal about their being out bo long, 
and argued that it was unhkely they had made a kill or 
they would have been in earlier. This proved to be cor- 
sect. McChesney said that he had had one shot at a very 
fair ram that morning on the mountain side, not over a 
mile from the place where I had killed my ram. The 
sheep was standing at really about 125yds., though he 
thought it was further. He set his Lyman sight for what 
he thought was the right distance, but overshot; then, as 
he began to turn down the rear sight to the correct eleva- 
tion, O-to-ko-mi fired at the ram, which was just turning 
away, and he also missed, the ram going on up over the 
mountain in about two jumps. This made them both feel 
very bad, but they kept on up the caflon and saw a whole 
horizon full of high, thin peaks and deep canons, a good- 
looking game country, but they did not put up any other 
game within range. They had a very trying day's work of 
climbing. 
We all began to feel badly about McChesney's hard luck, 
for he had been having plenty of hard work after his sheep 
and had not yet come up to it. In fact, we began to think 
that the game was now so stirred up in our neighborhood 
that it was going to be necessary to make a move, getting 
up to the upper Two Medicine Lake in some way or other 
on a short side hunt. O-to-ko-mi was silent and hungry, 
as usual, and he had nothing to say until he had eaten 
a-plenty. All hands joined the late-comers in eating sup- 
per, and I believe this was nearly the last supper we ate 
that night. Poor Schultz was cooked to a plum fi-azzle, 
and we made an awful hole in the beans and sheep. Mc- 
Chesney was not cheerful over his luck, but still was dis- 
posed to resent any imputation as to the virtue of his um- 
brella, declaring that if he had brought it into camp 
instead of leaving it at the agency, he would surely have 
killed a ram before this. In the further talk regarding 
hoodoos, it was generally agreed, John and Madame Mon- 
roe concurring, that it was Pah-kuk-kus himself, and no 
lynx, which was tearing up things upon the mountain side 
above us and raising all the trouble in general. 
Around the Lodge Fire. 
Around the lodge fire that evening we had a long and 
interesting council upon the topics of the chase. John 
Monroe proved to be very much of a character, and we 
learned that he was all over the wilder parts of the big 
North before many white men had come into the region. 
He was with the Hudson Bay Co. in the old times, and 
was as familiar with the Peace River country as with the 
Two Medicine. As John had been a trapper in the old 
times himself, he gave me some points upon making dead- 
falls. Everything, he showed me, was done by rule. Thus, 
the spindles for a marten trap should be the height of a 
hand for the upright, the length of a span and a hand for 
the bait stick. In making a lynx snare, as he showed us 
in the ashes about the lodge fire, one should follow the 
instructions given to the old Hudson Bay trappers; the 
noose should be hung just at the height of the lower part 
of a man's knee-cap above the ground. 
"Gee!" said Billy, "that's hard on me, old man. I've 
left my loops only about 4 or 5in. over the snow, in my 
lynx snares. Do you suppose they'll catch him?" 
"Oh, dat's bad, dat's werry bad," said the old man, 
mournfully. "I esplain somet'ing to you. S'pose dat cat 
he come, fin' yo'r essnare hang low down, like dat (making 
the picture in the ashes); he put his foot t'roo de essnare, 
and claw at de bait. You get-a him so, by foot, and he 
eat oS string, you get-a him, no. But s'pose you have hole 
up high, so, about by my knee, here, dis cat, he goin' poke 
hees hade in t'roo hole, not poke bees feet. You ketch-a 
heem by neck, so — choke him quick, he die soon, you get-a 
heem, yas, ah-hum!" 
As Billy and I had spent considerable time in twisting 
up cords for the lynx snares, we were rather cast down by 
this information from the old man, but Billy, with charac- 
teristic cheerfulness, said he redsoned we'd have a cat in 
the morning, anyhow. "A link is the worst fool on feet," 
said he. "You can't drive that cat away from that 
bait up there till it has picked the bones. We'U get him 
sure." 
John Monroe said we were in a good game coimtry 
where we were, but that it was probably better a little 
further up the Two Medicine, where we knew there were 
goats as well as sheep. He said that he knew where he 
could get a moose whenever he wanted it, up in that 
direction, and that he had already killed one moose that 
winter, as well as one elk. He told us that as to bear 
country, we could ask no better if we could only stay until 
the bears came out. He himself had killed a number of 
grizzlies right in the country wn«r« we were ctua^eo 
