Oct. ]6. 1897.] FOREST AND STREAM. 808 
faculties. The jump of a rabbit into the brush would be 
followed by an ounce of shot, hurled at some unoffending 
tree 20ft. away. Lonp shote, near shots, cross shots, 
straight shots, impossible shote, incredible misses — the re- 
sult was the same. There stands the record, matchless, 
grotesque. Two seasons, fifteen years, two birds. 
The true sportsman soon learns a lesson, which, rightly 
understood, would correct the tendency of some to dispar- 
age sport on the ground of its drudgery or its brutality. 
The lesson is that while the actual securing of game is an 
incentive and a fitting climax, it is, after aU, but a email 
part of hunting. As I look across the study to ray guns 
and recall the camp life of the jpast three years, the inde- 
scribable fascination of mountain, forest and stream, the 
wealth of suggestion drawn from nature's treasury, the 
friendships formed with manly men, I can but rejoice 
that I learned some lessons well and from the start. 
There, for instance, was the gun. Some poor shots are 
forever berating their gun, slandering it outrageously, if 
not inflicting actual violence upon it. If my 12-bore "had 
been a new gun, such giving the benefit of the doubt to 
the gunner might have passed, but it had an excellent re- 
cord. Often after an exasperating miss I would hold it on 
an inanimate object. True as a die and a perfect pattern. 
The gun shot just where I aimed it, without any boom- 
erang antics to ofiset my lack of skill. "Never mind," I 
would say; "it is my fault. Kick me as much as you want 
to." Then there was the lesson of needless killing. 
I left the discussion of the larger question of taking 
animal life to those kind-hearted people whose arguments 
would have greater weight if the remonstrants would 
first adopt a strictly vegetarian diet. There are many birds 
and animals in the fields and woods that not only do no 
special harm, but they serve no useful purpose as food. 
Practical immunity has made them quite tame, and it re- 
quires little if any skill to shoot them. I learned to regard 
these as companions and friends rather than game. I 
studied their appearance and habits, learned and com- 
pared their notes and cries, and left many a tidbit for 
their meal. The woods also took on a deeper meaning. I 
began to see visions and hear voices The eye became 
stronger and clearer. The glory of the autiminal foliage; 
the interplay of lights and shadows; the variety of berries, 
bark and mose; the answering flash or deep shadows of 
the brook; the gray rocks and fallen trees, were an un- 
ceasing delight. The spirit of the wood seemed to whisper 
in the stirring leaves; to laugh in the running water; to 
inoan and sob in the rising storm. Again all would be 
silent, and in the silence there would come peace and rest. 
What man who has learned to love the woods has not 
yielded to the sjoell of that absolute calm when there 
seemed to exist in all the universe but two beings — 
himself and God? The taking of game for food, 
the uncertainty and excitement of the quest, the matching 
of wit against instinct, skill and pleasure in handling a re- 
liable gun, are all indispensable to hunting, but they are 
not all. Music, beauty, health, exhilaration, solitude, 
communion, comradeship, these are the greater part, and 
until the service of gun and rod in introducing the sports- 
man to these rich but all too rare experiences is learned 
by actual experience, the hold which hunting and fishing 
have upon manly men will not be understood, much less 
appreciated. 
Such was my introduction, such ■ the meager results as 
regards game, and such my progress in the spirit if not the 
skill of hunting. The gun secured an honored place near 
my desk, and the thought of what it might yet accomplish 
led to a complete revolution in my vacation plans. If the 
narrative of subsequent experiences and impressions will 
afford any entertainment to the readers, it shall be given, 
for next to hunting is the pleasure of "talking it over." 
Penoescott. 
SOME TEXAS DEER HUNTERS. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have been a regular reader of Forest and Stream, get- 
ting it from local newsdealers for the last fifteen years, and 
have often promised myself that I would some day give to 
its many appreciative readers and brother sportsmen (for I, 
too, was horn with the instmct) some of my earlier experi- 
ences in Texas with the Nessmuks of that day and time, 
having emigrated from Tennessee to Texas with my father's 
family when a youth in the winter of 1849-50 I have had 
the pleasure of the acquaintance of such noted deer hunters 
as Murphy, Phelps, tUe Wrenns and a host of others ; men 
who could look at a deer's track and almost teU you what 
the deer was thinking about when he made it 
Often have I seen Wash. Wrenn, who is now, alas* "rest- 
ing under the shade of the trees on the other side," when 
the hounds would be bothered trying to work out a cold 
trail where the deer had been feeding, dismount, hand his 
bridle reins to some one of the partv, find the tracks, be it in 
the dry baked toil of Scaley Bark Glade or on the rocky and 
barren hillside, work out, the. trail and give the hounds a 
iresh statt. 
And there was Uncle Jimmie Simmons, my ideal of a deer 
stalker, who knew exactly at what hour the deer would be 
feeding, and whose boast was that he never saw a 
deer running when hunting, until after he had fired 
his gun; in other words, no deer was so watchful 
that Uncle Jimmie's keen eye didn't see it before he was de- 
tected by the deer. Like ISTessmuk, he preferred hunting liy 
himself; though, being my father's nearest neighbor, and ob- 
serving my proclivities in that dhection, he has often taken 
me with him (he a man past fifty, and 1 a boy of oniy ten or 
twelve), and kept me in the woods with him all day, appar- 
ently enjoying my companionship as much as he would that 
of an esperienceel himter of his own age. Be assured there 
was no game of ball or marbles so attractive that I wouldn't 
abandon on the instant to go with him into the woods. 
What hunting those forests of east Texas, bordering on the 
Sabine, Angelina and Neches rivers, afforded! Ah, but it 
was the sportsman's paradise indeed! In the rivers and 
creeks were beaver and otter; bear, wild cat and coon in the 
swamps and canebrakes, and deer and turkey everywhere; 
besides, in the winter, mallards by the millions. 
On such occasions Uncle Jimmie would never lose an op- 
portunity to instruct me in woodcraft and the ways of wild 
game and how to stalk them, and to what part of their 
anatomy to direct the fatal bullet. Like most hunters, he 
was fond of his pipe, and his invariable rule was when he 
first discovered a deer (which, as before stated, he always did 
before the deer saw him) to get to the windward of it, even 
if he had to describe a half-circle to do it, then light his pipe 
and stalk it at his leisure, | 
"Never get in a hurry or allow yourself to become ex- 
cited," he would say, "for be assured the deer will never be- 
come frightened as long as you advance only when hia head 
is down, and keep to the leeward." 
He has long since been summoned to the far-away "hunt- 
ing ground;" but I imagine that I can see him now as he 
leisurely advances up the pathway that led down to my 
fathei's spring, from which both families were supplied with 
water, with his old flintlock rifle, with rpar sight shaded 
with a piece of tin bent over it, and old Beave, his "slow 
track," with yellow hide, hob-tail and prominent dew-claws 
at his heels. Again can I see that smile and hear that ever- 
pleasant and welcome voice calling at the gate: "Milton, get 
your gun and come along, I've got the salt and biscuits." 
How my little heart would bound with delight, and how I 
would dart like a fawn to my mother's side to ask permission 
to go. And, oh ! the delight "of the hunt. Yes, it all comes 
back. I can see it all. It is true it is only a memory and a 
vision, but it is a pleasant memory and a delightful vision; 
yea, to me a heavenly one. 
I only started out to say that I may hereafter write up 
some of those old frontiersmen and memories, for they be- 
long to the craft and should not be withheld. 
Milton Mays 
[We trust that our correspondent will tell us somelhiog of 
these old-timers. They deserve a writing up in the columns 
of FOBEST AND StREAM.] 
WITH GOKEY, OF DAWSON. 
Last week I spoke of a little hunt which my friend, the 
Chief, from New York, and myself, intended taking 
out in North Dakota with State Game Warden Bowers and 
his friend, Deputy Warden Gokey, of Dawson. We took 
the hunt and had one of the pleaeantest little experiences 
either of us has known for a long time. We left St. Paul 
on the evening of Mondav, via Northern Pacific, antl tak- 
ing up Mr. Bowers at Fargo, N. D., where he lives, we 
spent the rest of the night on board the train conversing 
about all those things which come up to the minds of 
children out of school. It was daybreak when we reached 
Dawson, and soon thereafter we were introduced to one of 
the most celebrated and justly famous citizens of the great 
State of North Dakota, Gokey. of Dawson. 
In appearance we found Gokey to be strictly weird, 
about medium height, but with long black hair hanging 
on his shoulders. His garb was of corduroy, his hat no 
derby, but the soft covering of the plains. His manner 
was that of the genuine West. In two minutes we were 
all acquainted, and in four we had our plans for the hunt 
completed. 
Gokey, of Dawson, has done more to make his State 
famous than any politician within its borders. He is 
known all over his own State, and, moreover, in every 
other State of the Union. He has friends by the score 
among the best and wealthiest sportsmen of America. 
Not to know Gokey is to argue oneself unknown, and that 
is why the Chief and I went out to see him. 
Gokey, of Dawson, was once upon a time a New 
Englander, and his parents wanted to make a business 
man out of him, but he was always sneaking off to go 
hunting, so they gave it up. Some score or more of years 
ago he resolved to come West, where he could breathe 
deeper and oltener and under less restraint. He reached 
Dakota in the buffalo days. He knew the antelope before 
they were gone. He will tell you that even to-day he be- 
lieves that he can take you, inside of four days, to a place 
in the unknown Dakota lands, where you may see a buf- 
falo, a real live wild buffalo. But he does not state for 
publication where this place may be found. 
When Gokey located, years ago, in the little prairie 
town of Dawson, he faced the problem of making a living 
just as the rest of us have to face it under one condition or 
another. In the little towns of the West the channels of 
trade run in miniature, and perh aps a single one does not offer 
a living of itself. In the cities each man does one thing, 
or part of it, but on the prairies he is obliged to do many 
things. 
Gokey, of Dawson, is above all things a hunter, yet not 
a market hunter, and not a butcher. He takes out parties 
into the best duck and goose country of Dakota. This sea- 
son is short, of course, and for the rest of the year Gokey 
does many things. He is deputy game warden, and a 
rattling good one. He is justice of the peace, of course, for 
the most prominent citizen is always elected to be justice 
of the peace in a Western town. He saya that not since 
the first year of his arrival in Dakota has he been without 
holding an ofiice of some kind. Also, he is a harness 
maker, and a very good one. He repairs guns and all sorts 
of firearms. He loads shells, and sells supplies for guns. 
More than that, he is a professional photographer, and 
makes some very sweet pictures of Dakota babies. Not 
content with this, he is also a dentist. He pulls teeth afier 
a painless method which he advertises. When the patient 
tells him that he has been hurt, Gokey, of Dawson, apolo- 
gizes, and tells him that he forgot to rub on that painless 
stuff, and offers to put the tooth back and do it over again. 
I asked him where he was graduated as a dentist, and he 
said he just picked it up. Not yet done is the catalogue of 
Gokey, of Dawson. He is leader of the town band, and 
plays the clarinet with exactness and confidence. I have 
an obscure notion that his painless method of dentistry is 
in some way connected with the clarinet, though of this I 
am not sure. Gokey, of Dawson, is a musician, a scientist, 
a philosopher, a business man, a jurist, a corking fine duck 
shot, and the very best fellow in the world. No one ever 
saw him out of humor. Day or night, he is always with a 
laugh upon his lips. He will not wear rubber boots, but 
goes into the water, no matter what the weather, in old 
shoes and trousers direct. Yet he was never known to 
shiver; he never had rheumatism, and he is never sick. 
He can break a dog, handle a gun, or pole a boat with the 
best of them. I nearly forgot to add that he is the town 
barber, and he shaves and cuts hair as well as he shoots 
ducks. No man ever knew him who did not love and ad- 
mire him. There is only one of him in the entire State of 
North Dakota, and if you see him once you are bound to 
go back and see him again. 
Picture to yourself Gokey, of Dawson, engaged at his 
work, or more properly speaking, at his works. I do not 
say that he can try a case at law and shave a man at one 
and the same time, but suppose this doubtfiil situation is 
not offered him. Suppose that he has merely to make a 
set of harness while he is trying a case, or to load some 
shells after he haa given the band the regular lesson in 
Sousa'a marches (which they really play). Suppose that 
he merely has to shave a man, after he has fixed up a 
broken gun, or something of that sort, and is then about 
to make a picture of a Norske infant. You approach 
Gokey so employed, and mention to him the possibility of 
a little hunt. Presto! You find the real business, the real 
preferences of the man. He continues the law case. He 
postpones the parents of the Norske infant. He lets the 
harness wait, and tarries not at all to evoke sweet notes " 
upon the clarinet. In four minutes Gokey, of Dawson, 
has his two rough-looking but speedy horses hitched up to 
his light covereei wagon. His dogs, rough-coated but old- 
headed, trail out behind. On a little two-wheeled cart of 
his own invention a duck boat travels on behind the light 
wagon. His useful gun, his well-worn coat and suit are in 
evidence. Gokey, of Dawson, is no longer jurist, barber, 
artist, merchant. He is in every shining, happy linea- 
ment Gokey the hunter, unapproachable in his chosen 
craft. 
It is thus that I would lovingly picture him, nor can I 
suggest greater happiness for any person, whatsoever be 
his condition, than at some day thus to see Gokey, of Daw- 
son, and to think that he is to be head of an expedition 
out over the big gray plains, where the air is sweet and 
keen, and where the blue sky has long, dark traceries 
drawn across it by the wavering flights of the fowl. 
W e had two days at Dawson, Warden Bowers, the Chief 
and myself, and though we had had no sleep the previous 
night on the train, but had visited and talked like school- 
girls till the gray of dawn, we lost no moment getting oft" 
for our hunt. On this first day Gokey determined to take 
us only about six or seven miles out of town, to the Dead 
Buffalo Lake, near the old Sibley battle ground. On the 
way out he and Warden Bowers told us all sorts of cock- 
and-bull stories about the numbers of ducks we should 
see (all local ducks, of course), and to this I listened po- 
litely, as one used to many such stories which had never 
found fulfillment. Here let me apologize. The stories in 
this case more than came true. 
At the head of the Dead Buffalo Lake there is a narrow 
strip of water separating it from a smaller lake above, 
and between this little sheltered basin and the wide, deep 
water where the wild celery grows, there is a more or less 
constant flight of ducks. We put out our team and 
hastened quietly as we could down to this fly-way, seek- 
ing not to alarm the birds till we had taken our stand on 
the ridge between the lakes, where the rushes grow much 
higher than a man's head and run out almost entirely 
across the narrow channel. One of the dogs ran on ahead 
of us, and even before we could run over to the pass, tliere 
arose an enormous black cloud of ducks, which began to 
stream over the pass and to spread out over the big lake 
below. 
Hot Times on the Pass. 
Each of us had his pockets full of shells, and before we 
had deployed as skirmishers across the pass the pockets 
began to empty. The ducks came in a constant stream, 
without intermission for many minutes, nearly all of them 
low and almost in our faces, and with that velocity of 
flight seen nowhere except on a duck pass. The four of 
us with shouts and calls and eager vociferations ot "Mark! 
mark! mark!'' poured in such fire as we could. Mr. Bowers 
cut down his first two birds after his regular style, and 
Gokey, wading out into the middle of the channel, began 
to fold up birds with the smoothness of the oldtime shot. 
I came near stopping my own gun to watch the sport of 
duck shooting on the pass, which I consider to be one of 
the most difficult and exciting forms of shooting. High 
up in the air the passing bird would suddenly close up, its 
head falling back, and come down like a stone with 
an excellent great splash. For the Chief, I can 
say he was diligent, and often I saw him cut 
down his duck, sometimes dropping it at his feet as he 
stood on the dry ground. Both the Chief and myself were 
raw at first on the pass, but after the flurry we got down 
to it and shot with our average of badness I suppose. All 
of us killed ducks, many ducks, so many and in such 
mingled fashion that for a time no one could tell whose 
duck it was that fell out of the flight under the pattering 
fusillade. The retrievers were busy wading and swim- 
ming, and we, too, at times paused to pick up a bird or so. 
In half an hour the flight slackened, and we stopped to 
take account. Many of our birds fell back of us in the 
water, and unless killed stone dead such birds were as good 
as lost; for they would dive and disappear as soon as they 
got to the water. We could see that many of our ducks 
were canvasbacks and redheads. I shall make it short by 
saying that the first hurried flight did not last long, and 
that during the day, which came off very hot, the birds did 
not move much, Gokey very wisely decUning to go out and 
stir them up, as he said that would drive them off their 
feeding beds and cause them to leave the lake. Tlie even- 
ing was still, and the birds did not move as we had ex- 
pected. Moreover, we were most of us tired and sleepy, 
and not disposed to kill everything in sight. After we had 
picked up our dead and found such of the cripples as we 
could, we had somewhere between thirty and forty ducks, 
I believe, nearly a dozen and a half of which were fine fat 
canvasbacks and redheads. This we voted plenty good 
enough for us. 
Not so Gokey. Both he and Bowers declared we had 
seen no shooting at all- They held conference, and soon 
announced that on the following day we must be prepared 
for a long ride. We were to go to the famous Chase Pass, 
about twenty-four miles northeast of Dawson, and to see 
what both these gentlemen declared to be the best flight of 
ducks in the whole country. 
Dreams Realized. 
Here again I am obliged to say that the representations 
held out did not begin to equal the reality. The Chief 
and myself have traveled a little in this "big country of 
America, and have seen ducks all the way from British 
America to Mexico, yet never, even on the Gulf coast of 
Texas, did we ever see so many ducks, such comfortable, 
obliging ducks, and ducks so accessible and incessant. It 
was a wonderful sight of wildfowl, one of those sights 
which make the unthinking say that there are "just as 
many ducks now as there ever were." Gokey said this 
was always a great place for ducks, but that this year the 
birds were more numerous than for many years previous, 
thanks to high water and to the Ucense law, which cut off 
the non-resident market shooting and reduced that of 
game hogs who knew no moderation. Gokey said that up 
^0 the past two years it was a daily sight at Dawson 
