FOREST AND STREAM. 
14B 
the body— the best f covLld see it. ^et agaifi, ^y;eii uhef 
this shot, which brought a sad blotch 6f re(J out utoii its 
■white coat, the sheep raised its head, aind yet slgain I fired! 
and struck it, this time laying it out still at lasf. (jn ttij 
forehead the sweat was standing, cold as was the day. I 
felt wretched over the whole businesSj and kicked myself 
for a blundeiing idiot all around. 
The "Forest and Stream" Luck< 
Not so 0-to-k6-mi. He joyfully, ran to the edge of the 
slope, and then fast as he could, began to climl', I follow- 
ing at less speed. He gotup to my firstsheep, and pulling 
it from behind a tree, where it had lodged, kicked it down 
the mountain to me. I saw it was a very decent little ram, 
a three-year-old, I think, though the horns were by no 
means so large as they had seemed in the shifting light of 
the storm. Meantime O-to-ko-mi worked across to the 
other sheep, which was some SOyds. further to the left and 
a.little further down. As he stopped to kick this sheep 
Also down hill he paused, and then called out to me aloud, 
* Him buck!'* 
And so it proved! The Forest and Stream luck, and 
ffothjiig else, had saved me from the killing of a ewe! I 
Eadkillea iw;o rtiqie rams, stud so finished the pyramid of 
sheep needed to show .the b'igileas of the moflarch in the 
Forest and Stream office at home. Now 1 had font sheep, 
running down from the biggest head in Amei4ca to about 
the smallest. My last sheep was a little yearhng ram', 
with horns only about as long as my finger. Sorely I 
wished he were back in the hills alive, but I was right 
gla,d it was no ewe! 
Now came on one of the swift changes of the mountains, 
and it grew cold all at once, so that we hurried on with 
our butchering, pulling the sheep down to the bottom of 
the cafion, when we skinned out the bodies we found 
thit 5^y first shot at the fam hAd apparently struck on 
the edge of the chest a9 he fatced nie, but had not centered 
the body, and so had not p'roved fatstl. The nest shot, 
fired at him ais he stood iri the b'urich, h^d gone; low 
ihrough tl^e brisliet, passing through and cutting oif the 
leg of the little sheep beyond, whose position 1 could nort 
see. The third shot alt the rdvd had hit himi jdst back of 
p'f the shoulder, alid dropped himI at once. All these bul- 
lets, soft-nosed, passed through the bod^', and the front of 
the animal was well shattered up. The fourth shot, at the 
little dripple, hstd been low, probably because I was then 
holding finer than I knew, and this had cut off a leg, in 
this case 'as in the otheT, taking it off as though it were 
cut off with a clearer, only a strip of hide remaining. 
One shot in the foreleg smashed the knee joint all 
to pieces. The last two shots were through the paunch, 
aild churned the interior of the body all up, though 
the hole on the opposite side was only about as large 
as a Quarter ot leas. Thus I had fired seven shots 
to kill two sheep, apparently not a very brilliant 
pierformance fot either rifleman or rifle. Yet of these 
shots not one, except the last one at the larger ram, had 
been placed in such position as would make it fatal. So 
far as the accuracy was concerned, it was enough to out- 
class me as a rifle shot, for the distance was long and was 
a changing one, in part at running shots. 1 figured it out 
that had I been shooting the .45-70 I should likely have 
missed n^y sheep, and that the effect of the .30-30 was just 
about the same where it hit as would be an expansive ball 
in the .45^70. Then and there I determined that for any 
game up to sheep or goats I should shoot no rifle but this 
.30-30. Of course, in the story books I should have shot 
each ram through the heart with a single ball, but I notice 
things don't go that way when it comes to actual shooting 
in the winter, or in the fall either, for that matter. I was 
well satisfied with the shooting and with the results. So 
was O-to-ko-mi, who flattered me openly about the accu- 
tacy. 
The Trail Home. 
We got out the heads and hides and a good bit of the 
meat of the two sheep, making them up into packs, which 
proved pretty heavy before we got to camp, and then we 
started home for our main camp, 0-to-k6-mi saying that 
Schultz would not go back to the upper bivouac, but 
would surely go home that night. As we had a down-hill 
course, we soon made it down to Two Medicine Creek, 
crossing at our fallen tree, and thence we had a good, stiff 
jplugging time through the level woods. It grew very cold 
and began to snow heavily. O-to-ko-mi was tired, and so 
I broke trail for a good slice of the time, and as the snow- 
shoe trail we had made coming up was now entirely oblit- 
erated, I often lost my way, much to the Indian's disgust. 
"White man, all time he get lost," said O to-k6-mi, in supe- 
rior fashion. "Me no get lost. I go camp. Night, day, I 
go camp." He showed me how to distinguish the hidden 
trail by the look of the snow on ahead and by the feel of 
the snow under foot. We were nearly frozen about the 
fade, and were tired and staggering when late in the after- 
noon we got to the door of our blessed lodge and threw off 
our burdens of meat. Inside the lodge was cheerless and 
empty enough, Billy's blankets were rolled and strapped, 
but Billy himself was gone. No fire and no food awaited 
us. O-to-ko-mi and I were very tired, but we were hun- 
grier than we were tired, so we paused not till we had a 
pot of cofi'ee and a steak of sheep meat ready, and then we 
ate and visited with each other, O-to-ko-mi being now 
very, friendly and talkative with me, and recounting as 
best he could the incidents of the day. He was willing to 
admit that the little rifle was not so bad as he had thought. 
Fortune of the Chase. 
After 0-to-k6-mi and I had eaten a sort of breakfast and 
lunch combined we thought things over for a while and 
then ate dinner. Then we were content to rest a while, 
and went out and got up wood for the night. Dusk came, 
and still no sound to announce the arrival of the others of 
our party, whom we had left eight miles away on the 
^avage front of Rising Wolf. It was dark and very cold 
,when, as we lay on our blankets by the lodge fire, we 
heard a shuffle on the snow outside. The flap of the door 
opened, and through it stepped, or rather fell, Schultz, 
his face white with hanging ice and snow, and his voice 
faint and weak, He fell forward upon the blankets, with 
his pack still on his back, too weak to move or get out of 
his pack. "For God's sake, get me something hot!" he 
said, "I'm nearly dead." 
"Where's Mac?" I asked, not seeing anything of the 
)atter. 
"I don't ^noWj" said Schultz, "he's hack, somewhere on 
the tfail, about half a mile, I guess. One of you go out 
atid get him in." 
i!h\B T staffed to do, but as I was putting on my things 
we heafd KicChesfley outside, calling out that no one need 
go out after hiiti, as he was there all right. Then we got 
some hot chocolate ready for them as soon as we could. 
I was almost ashamed of myself fot having such good luck 
again, on what was practically the second day of my hunt- 
ing, for McChesney was still unfortunate. He and Schultz 
had gone clean to the cap rock of Rising Wolf, and they 
had seen the trail of a band of sheep, one of them a very 
big ram track. They had got almost in ran^e, when in 
the storm the sheep winded them and went off away over 
the mountain out of any sort of reach. Then they had 
gone back to our camp on the upper lake. Nothing was 
left to eat there, so they had to face the long trail home. 
Thinking that we would not want to go to that camp 
again, Schultz had concluded to bring my pack out with 
him, and to leave the little lodge standing where it was, 
as he and McChesney would have enough to cai'ry without 
it. So the lodge was left there, keeping silent camp on 
the storm-swept bank of the upper lake of the Two Medi- 
cine. And there I doubt not it is to-day, for certain it is 
that we never went back there after it. E. Hough. 
1206 BoYCB Building, Chicag'o. 
MORAL SENSE IN BRUTES. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
In Mr. Adams's notice of my communication he defines 
morality as "obedience to the laws of society." So far, very 
good. "Natural laws pertain to all things, and certain laws 
eovern the conduct of brute society. But that the actions of 
the lower animals are ever prompted by a sense of duty is 
not only extremely hypothetical, but altogether doubtful. 
The hen has strong maternal affection, but that she has the 
least Idea of the virtue of that affection any more than of the 
virtue of doing good for evil is in the extreme conjectural. 
If Mr. Adams's account of the storks be true, it is manifest 
that antipathy existed toward the mother stork, but its ex- 
istence does not necessarily imply a knowledge like that 
with which man regards moral good and evil. It is often 
hard and even impossible to account for the likes and dis- 
likes of animals. The hen will sometimes destroy certain 
of her brood, and the sow devour her own offspring. Much 
of the cruelty is practiced upon the brutes for the lack of 
thought that they are not morally responsible. They are 
treated as if they are conscious of wickedly, selfish acts. I 
once saw some men looking at a drowning mouse in a pail 
of water. I rebuked them, and one of them— a man, per- 
haps forty years old— turned tome and said: "The mouse 
deserves it." Why deserved it? Pray tell us. Shall we 
say it was conscious of the sin of thieving? Others may try 
to view it in that way — I do not. I knew another man who 
would hold rats with a tongs and roast them aliye in the fire. 
If he could not prove that thpy deserved their torture, he 
certainly wished to believe they did. If we recognize a 
Creator is it not most rational to suppose that he has created 
the brutes morally irresponsible, and would have us thus re- 
gard them, that our inclination to torture them would be 
held in restraint? N. D. Elting. 
Cbhtral City, W. Va. 
Rooster Acephalous. 
Ir was once thought impossible that a human being could 
live and walk with a broken neck, and perhaps still 
more doubted that a rooster could live, stand, and be fed 
after the hatchet had severed its head from the body. But 
such are the real hard facts The phenomf^-nal rooster was 
exhibited some years ago in Huntington, W. Va. The ex- 
hibitors said they got the fowl from a farmer who had de- 
capitated it, after which it got upon its feet. However this 
may be, the headless, living rooster was not a deception. It 
was fed through a tube inserted in its throat. It is obvious 
that the farmer's stroke was a little too high, and that a por- 
tion of the back brain still remained, and partially perform- 
ed its functions. How long the fowl lived 1 did noD hear. 
One thing is certaia— he died "game." 
A negro, seeing "mfllions in it," then experimented on the 
gallinacious tribe, and succeeded in turning out a fair dupli- 
cate of the aforesaid acephalous curiosity (for whom I made 
a picture of the rooster with which to advertise), and he 
started on a tour of exhibition. He returned not long 
aft°r and told me he was doing well, and could have made 
some money at decapitating roDSters for other parties who 
wanted them for exQibition, but that he was prevented by 
the authorities, upon the accusation of cruelty. 
N. D. Elting. 
Coyote and Hog. 
Missoula, Mont., Aug. 2<\.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
Yesterday, while out driving with my wife and another lady, 
we had quite an experience, as follows: While driving along 
the road my dog (a female) was running along inside a field, 
when all at once a coyote jumped up, and 1 set the dog after 
it; but she soon tired and came back, and the coyote after 
her. It followed the dog at about adistance^of 15ft., and 
within 2oft. of the carriage, for fully a quwter of a mile. 
Once I got out and ttirew a stone at it, bui it came hack at 
once, and followed along for quite a distance until we came 
to some thick timber, when we lost sight of it for good. 
The bitch was not in season. W. E, GttAHAM. 
WHERE TO GO. 
One important, useful and considerable part of the Forest akd 
Stream's service to ttie sportamen'a commuciry is ttie information 
given inquirers for shooting-^nd fishing resorts. We mate it our 
business to lioow where to send the sportsmen for large or small 
game, or in quest of his favorite fish, and this knowledge is freely im- 
parted on request. 
On the other hand, we are constantly seeking information of this 
character for the benefit of our patrons, and we invite sportsmen, 
hotel proprietors and others to communicate to us whatever may be 
of advantage to the sportsman tourist. 
The FoKBST AND STREAM IS put to press ea<ih week on Tueadai/, 
Correspondence intended for publication should reach H9 at the 
latest f'v Monday, and aa much earlier eta practicable. 
'^rqe md 0m 
The "Briers" Pictures. 
There are twenty-nine illustrations in the current edition of Oanie 
Laws in Brief, most of them full page half-tones, and all admirably 
printed. The book is a beauty, and well worth having for the illus* 
trations which. Mr. Charle^! Hallock says, so well represent America's" 
wilderneps sports. The Brief gives all the laws of the United States 
and Canada for the practical guidance of anglers and shooters As 
an authority, it has a long record of unaeaailed and unassailable ac- 
curacy. Forest and Stream Pub. Co. sends it postpaid for 25 cents, 
or your dealer will supply you. 
GIVEN AWAY. 
One day in September, many years ago, I was bunting 
with very poor success along the border of one of the few 
tracts of original forest that then remained in our township. 
The glassy channel of the Slang, a sluggish watercourse 
that crept along the edge of the woods, was not wrinkled by 
the wake of a solitary duck, nor did the further curves and 
reaches of Little Otter show more sign of life. It seemed as 
if the widespread bounty of the rice marshes offered no at- 
traction to the waterfowl, for I saw another hunter, a marsh 
hawk, commanding a far wider range than 1, beating the 
broad levels with as little success. 
The skirt of the old woods frayed out into a fringe of 
brnsh and berry briers, which was ordinarily the haunt of 
ruffed grouse, was to-day as deserted as the marsh. Now 
and then a noisy jay or a silent cedar bird flitted out of the 
thicket before me, and from the marsh on my left arose at 
every sudden sound the outcry of unseen rail, but neither 
thicket or fen offered anything that I was in quest of. 
O'pon coming to the landing where John Cherbineau's log 
canoe lay with her nose upon the bank, I took the path 
which led through the woods to the clearing and home of 
the owner of the craft. Beyond these, a wood road, much 
used in winter by lumbermen and woodsmen, offered a sure - 
and easy thoroughfare to Louis Creek, where I hoped to find 
the ducks that must be somewhere With an eye to a pos- 
sible partridge, I cautiovisly followed the path, deep worn 
in the mould by the frequent feet of John and his fat old 
wife, till the sunlit clearing shone before me between the 
dark hemlocks. 
Stumps, young saplings, raspberry and blackberry briars 
held a far larger part of the deforested acres than did John's 
potato patch and cornfield, in the midst of which stood the 
little log cabin that, with its whitewashed walls and notched 
eaves, looked as little native to the soil as its tenants. I had 
not gone far toward it when a wide-brimmed straw hat ap- 
peared above the blackberry bushes, and as it moved slowly 
toward me in a halting, devious course, I discovered beneath 
it the broad, unctuous visage of John's "femme." Intent 
upon seeuiing the last blackberries of the season, she was 
not aware of me till I called out to her, "Good morning, 
Marie. Where is John?" 
My unexpected salutation did not startle her from giving 
chief attention to the heavily-laden bush before her, and her 
eyes and hands were busy with the berries while she an- 
swered: "Good mawny! Mah man? Ah do' know 'f 'e 
an't peek hees onion. Ah do' know 'f 'e an't po'n' baskeel, 
prob'iy. Yas, Ah hear it," and listening, my ear caught the 
regular, resonant strokes of splint pounding at the further 
edee of the clearing. 
Gathering and vending the various kinds of wild berries 
in their seasons, fishing and fish peddhng, making baskets 
and braiding straw hats for the neighbors and store keepers 
were the chief industries of this old couple, except when 
they once set forth on a grand begging tour, outfitted with 
horse and cart and a dolorous fiction of sickness and losses by 
fire. But they lacked one essential, a numerous, helpless 
progeny, through which to appeal to the benevolent public, 
forlheir own children were all grown up and scattered, and 
they could borrow but two of forty grandchildren, so the 
enterprise failed and they retired to private life. 
"Lots of berries, aren't there?" I remarked, with a view to 
the old woman's encouragement. 
"Oh, sang rouge; dey a'n't 'mos' any," she declared, in 
face of the evidence of laden bushes and a basket almost full 
of plump, dead ripe blackberries. "Dey a'n't honly few for 
beegin, an' dey all dry up 'cep' dees lee'l place!" 
I'found old'John, the lean and agile opposite of his pon- 
derous spouse, engaged in the primary process of basket 
making, pounding an ash log and stripping off the thin 
splints. After an exchange of salutations, he asked : 
"A'n't you fan' daukon Slang?" and when I acknowledged 
my failure, he continued.. "Wal, sab. Ah got mah hoi' fusee 
feex over for cap lock, an' you a'n't never see for beat it for 
keel dauk. Ah tol' you. Hoi' Seaver on Vau'genn' he feex 
him, an' las' week mah sonny-law come see me, an' he say he 
shoot him on board for see how he shoot. Ah sav, 'Bah 
gosh, no! we go shoot on dauk.' Wal, sah, we fan' fav' black 
dauk roos' on de water. Ah shoot on it, free come dead, two 
go safe. Bah-gosh! It better for shoot on black dauk 
he was for shoot on board, a'n't he? You go on Louis 
Creek, hein? Wal, prob'iy you fan' some, prob'iy you a'n't. 
Ah do' know me." 
With such doubtful encouragement, I left him grinding a 
o-rist of greenish-black, home-grown tobacco for his blacker 
pipe, ana as 1 entered the shady aisle of the wood road 1 
heard the click of flmt and steel, the imperative smack of 
draft-compelling lips, and then the resonant clangor of the 
splint pounding, resumed with renewed vigor. 
When this sound ceased my way was in silence but for my 
own footsteps on the dry leaves of last year and the naked 
tree lools uncovered and wounded by the lumber sleds. 
These had left more living signs of their passage in the rank 
tufts of hertisgrass, sprung from seed scattered out of the 
teams' noon fodder, and looking odd'y out of place in the 
shade of the ancient forest, with orchids, sphagnum and 
hobblebush for nearest neighbors. 
The soft mold and the edges of the long mudholes recorded 
the recent use of the road by some natives of the greenwood 
—lineal descendants of original proprietors whose title ante- 
dated royal charters and grants of colonial governors. Here 
was set down in plainest print the passage of a family pro- 
cession of raccoons; there, in finer type, the nightly wander- 
ing of a fox, and the mincing morning walk of a partridge, 
whom, perhaps, I saw a little later. The clumsy, bear-like 
tracks of the raccoons held light on through thick and thin, 
never turning aside for puddles that the dainty-footed fox 
had skirted, though he utilized for some distance the con- 
venience of the road, while the partridge only picked her 
way across this bar of nakedness that chanced to li^ in the 
