Nor. 6, 1897.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
^63 
a fair-sized trout came to the basket as the result of his 
call on the doctor. In the sluiceway of rock, where the 
water from above ran swift and smooth, another met the 
same fate; and as before, the silver-doctor was the Lorelei 
which lured the victim on to the rocks. It began to look 
like having trout for supper. Half a dozen more Sin. fish 
were flopping in the basket when I reached the level slide 
of water near the foot of the falls. Here the water, al- 
though not more than 7 or Sin. deep, ran so fiercely that 
it nearly swept me off the slippery incline; but the coveted 
position enabled me to lay the flies in one of those spots 
where, by some occult sort of revelation, the angler 
knows to a dead certainty a trout is lurking. He was 
there sure enough, and I caught a glimpse of a broad tail 
and a glint of red as he missed the lure at the first rush. 
The second cast was more successful, and the reel sang a 
falsetto as the fish rushed down stream. He was finally 
coaxed around into the quiet water of the big pool, but 
made a good fight; now boring for the bottom, now break- 
ing the surface, and again making a desperate effort to 
reach a big boulder whose top showed above the water. 
I had no landing net, but the taut line finally wore him 
out, and he joined his smaller brothers in the basket. 
How much did he weigh? Something under a pound, I 
suppose; but you must remember that this fish didn't get 
away! If he had, I don't know what proportions he might 
have assumed in my imagination as time went on. Well, 
they kept coming, until they didn't have far to fall when 
slipped into the basket; thirty-three in all, and almost 
every one of them on the silver-doctor. That fly is now 
fast in the top of a dead cedar hanging over the river, and 
I wonder how many hungry winter birds will have a peck 
at the gaudy and delusive insect with a barbed sting in its 
tail. There were trout galore for supper, and for break- 
fast, too; and there was also the ineffable satisfaction of 
having taken fish when people said they couldn't be 
caught. 
We stayed three days at Camp Sixteen. The weather 
was perfect, the spot an ideal one, and a more harmon- 
ious party never camped together. When Mr. and Mrs. W. 
Clark, of Moira, came to visit us our satisfaction was com- 
plete. There are few more enthusiastic or successful 
sportsmen than Mr. Clark, and his knowledge of the 
French Canadians and imitations of their dialect would 
delight the heart of Eowland Robinson. Mrs, Clark is 
also an ardent devotee of the rifle and rod, and has a fine 
buck to her credit this season. The ladies organized a 
cooking school, which, considering the material they had 
at hand, would have caused the laurels of Miss Parloa to 
wither and fade. Any man who thinks that women in 
camp are merely for ornamental purposes would change 
his mind if he could have seen two of our party cutting 
up a dead spruce for firewood with a cross-cut saw. 
While I fished the rapids, Mr. R. and Martin hunted 
the Burnt Ground. Martin brought in one deer, but up to 
the time I left Mr. R. had faUed to get a shot. Later on, 
however, he killed his legal quota — the just reward of pa- 
tience and skillful hunting. Whether a deer possesses 
any sense of humor or not I am uncertain; but it is a fact 
that while Mr. R. and other guests of the hotel were 
scouring the mountains miles away for game, two or three 
deer came into the garden one night and ate a lot of Day's 
turnips. Whereupon he remarked that it was a little 
tough on him to board the hunters and the deer too. 
Very early on the morning of the day I was to leave the 
woods Martin paddled me Up the river for a farewell hunt. 
It was still dark when we left camp, afid threatened rain. 
Not a breath was stirring, and the silence of the forest 
could almost be felt as we glided up the winding lane of 
black water. Martin's paddle was as noiseless as the 
wings of the belated owl that flitted past us, and once 
when rounding a bend we ran fairly into a flock of ducks 
before they knew they had company on the river. 
Past grassy point and wooded slope, over long-leaved 
grasses that waved in the current, and fields of lily-pads 
that softly grated against the keel of the boat, we glided 
on and on. I was so absorbed in the charm and novelty 
of that early morning hour that I was hardly thinking of 
deer, when on turning a sharp curve in the river, we came 
into full view of a magnificent buck standing in the shal- 
low water near the opposite bank, and looming up, in the 
uncertain light, like a gray horse. Martin and I saw him 
at the same instant, and I needed not the information and 
command: "There he is— shoot!" I have never had buck 
fever, and I didn't get it then, but I did have mental pyro- 
technics, if I may be allowed to coin the expression. As 
nearly as I can remember, about forty things flashed 
through my mind in a second or two, and these were some 
of them: That's the sort of deer you've been looking for 
during the past five years; shoot him in the head! You 
lost a deer last year by hitting him in the bodv! This is 
your last chance this year! You've got to get "him! You 
need that head in your dining-room! If you miss him 
your reputation is gone to— Take your time, and be 
quick about it! When the sights are— Crack! clinkerty 
clink; crack! clinkerty clink! No need to shoot again! 
He's down, and the placid river where he stood breaks 
into a geyser of water and mud. 
When we got to him we found a prize indeed, "a regular 
old horse," as Martin is wont to say. In fac<-, our united 
efforts failed to get him into the boat, and Martin had to 
get overboard and tow him ashore before we could load 
him. The first shot went in one eye and out the other, 
and the second passed through his liver, asiwe found later 
on. The trip down the river was in the nature of a 
triumphal journey, and when we had the buck hanging 
up in the morning sunlight he looked bigger than ever 
He was in the "blue" coat, weighed 2261bs. and carried 
twelve points on his head. We got him out to the hotel 
in the afternoon and shipped his head to Saranac that 
night to be mounted. 
So ended another delightful outing in the Adirondacks, 
and when I left the woods it was with the comforting 
sense of having gotten all that I went after, and, as usual, 
a great deal more. Arthur F. Rice. 
Passaic, N. J. 
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THE KID. 
Editor Foi'est cmd Stream: 
Tliere is a boy up in the Adirondacks who is a woods lad, 
blue-eyed, agile, but quiet. His playground is the wood- 
land, his games are played with wild creatures, and his toys 
are deadly weapons. He went to school at Northwood, N. 
Y., and ran away, sometimes to go swimming, or fishing, or 
"just 'cause I wanted to." "Just 'cause I wanted to" 
meant that he would rather sit on a log down on the flats, or 
up in Johnny Waghorn's swamp, where he could watch a 
red squirrel shuck hemlock cones or a partridge scratch for 
beechnuts, than sit on a bench at school and look at school 
books. His desk at school was notched by a knife, and 
pictures of birds and beasts were drawn all over it with pen 
and pencil. Clean places showing where the teacher had 
caused him to rub out some picture or writing. Once I 
found him reading a Second Reader stretched out on the 
dry leaves, like a picture-book boy, while he waited for a 
hawk on a stub ten rods away "to wake up." 
We call him the Kid, but his mother has a much more 
musical name which she calls him by— a name which goes 
sailing oft' across the flats and tossing along the hillside at 
dinner time, or when he's wanted, and leading those who 
hear it to say to the boy: "Hay, Kid! Your Ma's callin' like 
blazes fur ye!" Whereupon the Kid makes his way home- 
ward slowly, or quickly, according to the doings or thoughts 
at hand, I've been sitting beside the Kid away down on the 
flats, a good three-quarters of a mile from where he lives 
listening to the way be'd say: "Goll ! Wish I'd see a deer!'' 
when that cafl would come shivering faintly across the level 
like any other breath of nature. 
"That's mamma/'he'd say, "let's go." One time, though, 
there was a flock of sheldrakes away up the creek, and they 
seemed to be coming down slowly. We heard the call and 
he looked over his shoulder at the sun. 
" 'Tain't nothin' but dinner!" he said, "let's wait." And 
we waited. 
I used to take him hunting, but he takes me now; and if 
there is any argument as to which way a rabbit will circle, I 
follow his leading, because he knows. It seems just as 
though he had laid out the route with the rabbit the aay be- 
fore, to see the way he leads away after one of the beasts, 
cutting across from runway to runway and to the sides of 
ridges, and heading the fugitive off. He shoots, too. He 
was brought up on a rifle, and uses the shotgun only occa- 
sionally. He is a dead sure shot with the gun on a running 
animal, and often lands bullets where many cannot hit with 
shot. Among the men be is counted a good shot, and the 
rifle he uses in his hands is very accurate and drives bullets 
as near the center as any. 
The Kid had a dog. " Any one else would have killed the 
beast, as it was homely and foolish to every one; but some- 
way when the Kid took the dog hunting, and where the boy 
went the dog did, the Kid got game. 
"He-ah!" the Kid would say to the dog, "le's go hunting," 
and the dog would stand on bis hindlegs and act in a way no 
real hunting dog would do.^ On the way to the woods the 
boy and dog would run races, and the boy was almost as fast 
as the dog. After a run the two would have a talk about 
"raggits" (Northern hares), and woodchucko, and "pat- 
ridges," not to say "b'ar" and deer. What the Kid would do 
if he saw a bear is a question. When he saw a deer he 
missf d, but so does every one occasionally. 
The two went fishing together, and the way they yanked 
trout cut of little brooks was a caution. When the trout let 
go the hook and went two or three rods back in the woods 
or brush the dog would find it. 
The Kid would rather hunt rabbits than anything he had 
ever seen. I'd been out all one winter morning and half of 
the afternoon. A good hound had chased about after rab- 
bits, but I'd failed to get any, and the dog finally jumped a 
fox and followed it into the next township. 1 started for 
home, several miles away. About half a mile from my 
nouse I met the Kid in a swamp any ordinary hunter would 
have jumped over. The Kid was sitting on a log and pick- 
ing No. 7s out of the hair of a big white rabbit. Another 
rabbit was on the log beside him and the dog was eating the 
heart of the one the boy had in his hand. The Kiifhad 
come out half an hour before and got the two rabbits in the 
swamp, 
"How'd you get 'em?" I asked. 
"Jumped 'em," he said. "This un I just got. Seen 'em 
under them roots and the dog tried to eat 'im alive. The 
rabbit run and I give it to him. T'other one I just happened 
to get; seen 'im jump an' then I fixed 'Im. Le's go unto 
OleEdwm's." ^ 
One day half a dozen of us had been out on a Gin. snow 
and were coming past the same swamp. 'The Kid said he reck- 
oned he'd go and get another rabbit, and turned down into 
the swamp. We heard that dog yip before the boy was out 
of sight, and then the Kid's gun smoked. The :^id joined 
us within eighty rods and had another rabbit. 
"I told you so," he remarked. 
Did you ever see one of those prophetic hunters? A man 
who would say the night before that he would kill some- 
thing next day and then do it? Well, the Kid is one of that 
kind. He tells about his luck beforehand once in a while, 
says he feels it in his bones, and we always laugh at him, 
of course, because we're not like him, and he laughs, too — 
and kills his game. 
No one could tell all about such a lad— how the birds talk 
to him and of the leaves that sing in his ears, nor of tlie 
thoughts he has when he shivers, as the dogs bark on a dis- 
tant trail. But I guess that every one who has hunted or 
fished properly knows such a boy, and dreams about him 
sometimes. If he don't he ought to. 
Raymond S. Spears. 
PennsylTania Game. 
East Hickory, Pa., Oct. 28.— Small game m this section 
is quite plenty this season. Grouse are seen in the village 
nearly every day. A few days ago one killed itself by fly- 
ing against a house; another flew into the saw- mill when it 
was running full blast. 
Five miles above here a bear came out into a farmer's 
field and killed a calf, dragging it into the woods. 
Bass fishing in the river has not been good this fall. Hav- 
ing had no rains, the river is very low and clear. 
A trapper, who just came in, reports deer signs some ten 
miles east of here. 
Our new game law, which prohibits the sale, has put a 
stop to market hunting, which has done so much toward 
making game scarce. 
Do aw»y with the market hunter, who hunts for the 
money there is iu it, and in a few -years we will have an 
abundance of small game. _ _ Paper Shelt.. 
a blue MOUNTAm DEER. 
Amateur photo by A. D. Rlsteen. 
