2 64 
POINTS AND FLUSHES. 
As a testimonial of appreciation and approval, tlie West- 
ern Canada Kennel Club presented a gold locket to Mr. 
Frank Richards for iis courtesy in judging ttieir amateur 
trials at Lasalle, Manitoba, recently. One side of it bore bis 
monogram, the other an inscription commemorative of the 
event. It was valuable in itself, and still more valuable to 
Mr, Richards, from its pleasant associations. 
The recent trials in Manitoba have fully demonstrated 
that the dates in the last of August and early September are 
too early. The weather then is too hot, much of the grain is 
uncut, and the birds, having sufficient food in the open 
prairie, have not settled down to any fixed habitat with 
reference to a food supply in the grain fields. There is, of 
course, at a later date, the disadvantage of a diminished 
supply of birds caused by the shooting, but this could be 
guarded against by securing control of a large section of 
chicken country and preserving it. 
Mr. Edward Dexter, patron of the Northwestern Field 
Trials Club, has donated a |200 cup for the club's next 
champion stake. This should excite the keenest compi titi- 
tion, as it is one of the most valuable trophies, if not quite 
the most valuable, ever offered for field trial competition. 
The Si. Louis Republic reports the death of lowser, a tramp 
dog, famous in the city of jEast St. Louis. Towser, though 
of mature years and large experience, died a drunkard's 
death. He made his haunts mostly around the great East 
St. Louis railroad yards, and in his way besought beer of the 
railroad men, and saloon keepers thereabouts and he was not 
averse to a dram of whiskey now and then when he ' 'felt so 
dispoged," d la Sairy Oamp. He refused water quietly but 
firmly, and so he lived a drunkard's life till a few days ago, 
when, being drunker than usual, he toddled athwart the 
course of a switch engine and was cut in two. His sudden 
cutting off in the prime of his pleasure should be a warning 
to all dogs of bibulous habits. 
Sir Everett Millais, Bart., died Sept. 9, at Littleton House, 
Shepperton, England. Death was caused by inflammation 
of the lungs. He was well known as a writer on kennel 
subjects. "Rational Breeding" and "Two Problems of 
Reproduction," are bis best known works. At one time he 
was a member of the Kennel Club. 
Volume XVI. of the Greyhound Stud Book, published by 
Horace Cox, "Field" office, London, contains the addresses of 
coursing secretaries, judges, slippers, etc, coursing fixtures, 
of '97 and '98, pedigrees of winning greyhounds, review of 
the coursing season, registrations, winners of the Waterloo 
cup, purse and plate, portraits of celebrated coursers, and a 
vast amount of other information pertaining to coursers and 
coursing. It is invaluable to all who desire to be up to date 
in coursing matters. 
In our advertising columns the Eastern Field Trials Club 
calls attention to its All-Age and Subscription Stakes for 
setters and pointers. Entries positively close on Oct. 1. 
The judges are Messrs. Arthur Merriman and S. C. Bradley. 
Those who contemplate showing their dogs at the bench 
show of the Danbury Agricultural Society should bear in 
mind that the entries close on Sept. 27. G M. Bundle, 
Sec'y, Danbury, Conn, 
The Huber Buffalo Herd. 
DuHAUD, Wis., Sept. 12. — Albert and Charles Huber, liv- 
ing a few miles south of this city, have a herd of about 
twenty-five full-blooded bison and some eighteen crossed 
bulls and heifers. About six years ago they were hunting in 
the western part of North Dakota, and captured alive three 
young bison, a bull and two cows, and these they brought to 
their farm here. The animals grew and thrived amazingly, 
and are pastured in an inclosure of about 400 acres running 
down to the valley of Rose Creek, where they have ample 
room and shelter. 
Experiments were made early with crossed breeds, and it 
has now been found that the cross is very successful, the half 
breeds combining the docility of the domestic animals with 
the endurance and large size of the bison. They are also 
very fine fur producers, and grow to maturity in less time 
than domestic cattle. "The flesh of crossed animals is very 
palatable, and the fur has all the qualities of that of the 
bison, and is softer and more silky . The crossed bloods can 
stand far more exposure in winter than can the native cow. 
The Hubers believe they have a fortune in their herd if they 
can continue its increase a few years longer. — New York Sun. 
The Ways of Snakes. 
A FEW weeks ago 1 went into a w oods with my rifle to look 
for a squirrel, and the first thing that attracted my attention 
was a blacksnake, about loft, hijh on an oak tree. The tree 
trunk was nearly 18m. in diameter and free of limbs and 
knots for something like 50 ft. The top, however, was 
broken out, leaving a small stub of dead wood among the 
green limbs. The snake had evidently been up there after 
something to eat in the shape of young squirrels, mice or 
birds. Whether he found anything or not, he was now com- 
ing down very leisurely, and seemingly with as much ease 
and safety as he would crawl on the ground. I noticed that 
his body lapped back and forth across the tree trunk a dis- 
tance of probably 12in,, and evidently that was the secret 
of his being able to hold on. G. W. Ctjnningham, 
Good Words About Some Good Things. 
Since Nov. 20, 1S96, I have been living in a board cabin ia the moun- 
tains of Polk county, Arli., engaged with three partners in crying to 
develop some rose quartz (supposed to be) gold mining claims, which 
will be my excuse for my long silence, but my family in Topeka for- 
warded the Forest and Stkeam to my nearest post office, fourteen 
miles away, and you cannot imagine what a welcome visitor it was, 
and as a roll of four at a time was usually sent me by my family, it 
furnished us each tme, and there was no other business before us on 
Sundays but to read the Forest and Stream and to discuss the merits 
of its most excellent pages. W. F. R. 
I HAVE been up the country fishing, about 1,500 miles, in Wisconsin 
during the summer, and bought single copies. I did not read a paper 
of any kind for three weeks (was between heaven and earth, you 
see), and then ransacked the news stands at Baraboo, Wis.; the Union 
Depot, Chicago; Union Depot, Kansas City, and all over Dallas, Tex., 
for back numbers of Forest and Stream, I finally found, thena at 
a place in Dallas, and bought all they had, E, R, Emery, 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
Communications for this department are requested. Anything on 
the bicycle in its relation to the sportsman is particularly desirabl 
A PERILOUS RIDE. 
An Alleerheny Mountain Camp-fire Story. 
One day last October, in the course of a wheeling tour 
amid the AUeghenies, I found myself in the Chipmunk 
Field, one of those new districts in the oil country, which, 
despite all efforts to prevent overproduction, are continually 
being discovered and developed. The Chipmunk is a small 
creek flowing down a rapidly descending valley to the Alle- 
gheny River, at its head, not over eight miles from Brad- 
ford, the metropolis of the oil regions, yet up to last year 
wholly undeveloped. Oil was struck there twenty years 
ago, rich, too, but the well was bought up by shrewd opera- 
tors, and reported a "dry hole, which prevented develop- 
ment until last year, when a "gusher" was struck, and before 
the operators in Bradford "got on to it" sufiiciently to buy 
and plug it, the news leaked out, and there was a perfect 
stampede to the new fleld, 
When 1 was there the boom was new. Looking up the 
valley, you saw little but great black derricks above the little 
village of board shanties that had sprung up in a day. 
Engaging lodging tor the night at McCaffrey's, the only 
plastered house in the place, and stabling my wheel under 
an apple tree in the front yard, I went for a stroll up the 
valley. Passing the Chipmunk Emporium, the Gasser 
Sa,loon and Bijou Cafe (the latter closed and bearing on its 
door the striking legend: "Dry Hole; ask the Sheriff"), I 
came to a shanty that bore this sign in letters so large as to 
cover the entire front. 
: GUSHER CIGAR FACTORY. ; 
: Manufacturers of : 
• > 
: THE CHIPMUNK STJSHBH CIGAR, I 
: Wholesale and Retail. : 
I asked the proprietor if I might take a snap shot of it, 
"Cert," said he. 
Just as I pressed the button a thick voice cried from the 
Gusher Saloon, diagonally across the way: "Hi, Bill, here's 
a wheelin' dude takin' picters. Come an'"hev your'n took." 
"Mine too," chorused several more. "And the dawgs," 
piped another voice; and so it happened that very soon four 
representative citizens of Chipmunk, with three dogs — a bull, 
a mastiff' and a cross between the two — were looking into 
the muzzle of my camera. 
Wandering on, with eyes and ears open, I came soon to a 
section where many wells were in operation. It seemed a 
sort of portico of Hades; Dante's approach to the inferno 
might have been copied from it. A vile odor of gas tilled 
the air. Crude oil, green colored, ill-smelling, floated on the 
roadside pools and glided serpent-like over the bosom of a 
little brook trickling down to join the Chiomunk. In many 
cases the grass and weeds for rods around the well had been 
killed by an overflow of the vile stuff. In places stand pipes, 
fed by gas from the wells, emitted a roaring flame, while the 
creaking and groaning of the pumping machinery sounded 
like the wailiog of lost souls. 
The pumps are quite primitive, being composed in most 
cases of a huge wooden beam working on a pivot fixed in an 
upright, one end of the beam being attached to the pump 
piston in the well, the other moved by a small steam engine. 
Sometimes this engine is placed in a central house and 
works several pumps by means of rods extending across 
wide fields, like an octopus's arms. 
Having walked, I suppose, two miles up the valley, I grew 
fatigued, and threw myself under a spreading oak to rest. I 
had nearly fallen asleep when there arose down the valley 
such a rattling and thumping that I was wide awake in an 
instant, feeling sure that something out of the ordinary was 
coming, and soon I espied a very peculiar vehicle of funereal 
aspect approaching — a heavy wagon with covered box 
painted black, and drawn by two ancient, lop-eared horses. 
A little, weazened old man with a quizzical expression on 
his hatchet-shaped face, filled the driver's seat, 
"Good day," said 1. 
"G'd day," said he, pulfing up. 
"How far to Colegrove?" I queried. 
"About a mile," says he; "I'm a-goin' there; jump in." 
An odd smile stole over his face as he spoke, but disregard- 
ing it, I ' jumped in" with alacrity. 
"I never saw a well shot," I remarked, by way of opening 
conversation. 
"I hev," he replied, with decision. 
"It must be an exciting and dangerous business," I con- 
tinued, 
"Wal, now, it is, and then agen, it ain't I hev known 
torpedo shooters die with their boots on, but a right smart 
chance of 'em dies in their beds like or'nary folks. There 
was Bill Wirt Sykes, now, shot more wells than any man in 
the oil country ; but he got picked up at last, Bill did— an' 
they couldn't find pieces enough to hold a funeral over." 
"How was it?" 1 asked. 
"Well, you see. Bill wa^ engaged to shoot No. 6, over in 
Wildcat Run. No. 6 was a gasser, an' when Bdl let the fust 
ca'tridge down she only sunk about 500ft. an' then begun to 
rise. You see, the gas had got a 1501b. pressure under her, 
an' was a-hoistin' her, anchor an' all. 
•''My God, boys, scatter,' ses Bill, 'she's comin' up.' 
Everybody got but Bill, he stood by to catch her as she 
came up, because if she shot up out of that hole and fell 
back she was. bound to explode an' wreck everything. Well, 
Bill caught her all right, an' went to set her down on the 
pile; but somehow he fouled the anchor, or set her down 
too hard, or the anchor slid off and hit another ca'tridge — 
nobody knows exactly how it was — ail we knew was, there 
was a slap in our faces, an' nothin' but a hole in the ground 
where, a minute before, had stood a 90ft. derrick, an engine 
house, two horses an' wagon, 150 quarts o' nitro glycerine, 
an' Bill Wirt Sykes. As I was sayin', we couldn't find 
pieces enough of Bjll to hold a funeral." 
"How very exciting," said I. 
"Agin take me— I've shot a thousan' wells an' never an' 
accident. Fact, or it is Bill's time had come, an' when a 
man's time's called he's a goin', no matter whether he's 
[Sept. 25, 1897. 
drivin' a glycerine cart or playin' the dude roun' wimmin in 
a tennis court." 
"Of course," said I. "Who is greater than his fate. But 
What is a glycerine cart?" 
"Why, don't you know?" he replied. "Wal, I'll tell you. 
It takes from 100 to 150 quarts o' glycerine to shoot a well, 
an' if it's within two days' drive of the works, the stuff's 
always taken there in a covered wagon with a team. Pretty 
risky business? Well, a little. Still there was Ahc Glackeu 
followed it twenty years without an accident; then he had 
a pretty bad one." 
"What was it?" I asked, as my companion paused, 
"Wal, Abe had two horses that he allera drove to his cart 
— Pete an' Satan, a white an' a black. Some folks say a 
white horse fer luck an' some say a black. Reasons Abe, 
'I'll hev both, an' sure to hit it.' Wal, for twenty years 
Pete an' Satan plodded over the mountain steddy an' reliable 
as the sun an' moon. But one onlucky day in the Devil's 
Elbow on Shirley Mountain, Driftwood Creek roarin' 400ft. 
below, a swarm o' bees foUerin' their queen lighted on Pete's 
neck, an' what with his plungin' and snortin' soon began to 
sting both horses pretty bad. You couldn't expect flesh an' 
blood to Stan' that, and for the first time Pete an' Satan 
bolted. As luck would have it, old Doc Killam from town, 
with his nigger driver and span, was in the crook of the 
Elbow. For nigh twenty years Doc had kept the under- 
takers busy, an now his lime was come. The boy heard 
the racket above, an' reined his outfit jist as near the edge 
of the precipice as he dared. Abe saw the trick, an' drew 
in to the mountaia wall close as he dared, hopin' to pass; 
but 'twant to be — his off fore-wheel hit a protrudin' rock 
jist as he got abreast of the Doc: there was a crash, and a 
second one enough sight bigger, an' then all ihere was left 
was about five square rods of broken rock piled in the road 
an' Tushin' down into Driftwood. No, sir. They didn't git 
a shred of anybody— Doc, the nigger, Abe, four horses— jist 
went into thin air. " 
The road grew rougher and rougher as we advanced. 
Hollows, mud puddles, ruts, stumps, and protruding roots 
obstructed it. In places attempts had been made to repair it 
by dumping stone in the hollows, but without much suc- 
cess. Oyer these the wagon rattled and bumped, my com- 
panion meantime whistling a merry tune, 
"Someone said a well was to be shot up the valley this 
afternoon," I remarked after a time. 
"Yes," said he, "I'm on my way therfe with the stuff 
now." 
Well, my heart nearly stopped beating. 
''Heavens, man! You don't mean to say you've got 150 
quarts of nitro-glycerine in this box, do you?" 1 cried as 
soon as I could speak. 
"That's the cold fact, squire," said he, nonchalantly. 
I gave one leap from that box, and I didn't stop running 
till 1 was safe beside my wheel under the apple tree in 
McCaffrey's front yard. Chakles Burr Todd. 
The annual report of the Long Island R R. Co. notes that 
the influence of the bicycle in building up suburban resorts 
and encouraging the building of good roads has been very 
marked during the past year. Many towns are building 
macadam roads, and in the near future Long Island will have 
a perfect system of highways. The results are seen in the 
great popularity of Long Island for bicycle tours and in the 
large numbers of wheels handled on the trains, During this 
season more than 100,000 wheels will have been carried as 
baggage. The railroad invites this business, and has organ- 
ized a special department to supervise generally the needs of 
cyclists and to aid and encourage th", building of good roads 
and cycle paths. 
An Administration of Herb Tea. 
The Prince of a small German State, reports a German 
paper, whose ambition it was to do the grand, if on'y on a 
small scale, had invited a number of gentlemen to go on a 
deer-stalking expedition. Everything promised well. The 
weather; was superb, and the company was in the best of 
spirits, \*hen the head forester approached the petty monarch, 
and, lifting his green cap, said in faltering tones: "Your 
Highness, there can be no hunting to-day." "Why not?" 
was the stern rejoinder. "Alas I your Highness, one of the 
stags took a frigtit at the sight of so many people and has 
escaped into the adjoining territory, and the other stag has 
been ill since yesterday. But your Highness must not be 
angry — it is most likely nothing worse than a bad cold. We 
have given it some herb tea and hope to get it on its legs 
again in a few day." 
Rifle and Man. 
A WRITER in No. 10 of the present volume of this paper 
takes me to task for saying "A man should hit a running 
deer within a circle whose diameter is the width of the deer's 
body, and at any distance his gun will shoot accurately." 
He did not quote all I said on that point. Furthermore, he 
must know there are exceptions to all rules. Not long ago 
I said "two men might meet in the woods and exchange 
guns to their mutual advantage." Now, after I add the 
opinion that a medium-sized man can hit a running deer in 
the forest twice with a .£58-40-34in. barreled Winchester, to 
once with a .50-95 26in. barreled Winchester. I will give 
my case to the jury. Q. W. CoKNUfGHAii. 
WHERE TO GO. 
One important, useful and considerable part of the Forest And 
Stream's service to the sportsmen's commuDity is the information 
Etlven inquirers for shooting and fishing resorts. We make ir. our 
business to know 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 beneflc of our patrons, and we invite sportsmen, 
hotel proprietors and others to communicate to us whatever may be 
of advantage to the sportsman tourist. 
CHAINED 
N to Business? ® 
W Can't go Shooting? 
M Do the next best things 
■J^ Read Uie 
"ff ^orost Stream^ 
