Feb. 19, 1898.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
143 
> Just About a Boy.— VI. 
"Ducks 're flyin'," said the boy, as he met me at the 
corner. "Less go up river 'n' git some. I know where 
they's a dandy place, string o' pon's out in the edge o' 
the timber 'n* some more up in a big pasture, with corn- 
fields right clost by. 
"Always git lots up there when they're a-flyin', 'n' 
sometimes a goose, too. Will yeh go?" 
"I guess we'd better. Any show for snipe up there?" 
I asked. 
"Gee, yes! Always jacksnipe around the pond in the 
pasture. Yeh see, one end of it is kind o' springy 'n' 
has lots o' little watery places in it where the cattle have 
tromped 'round, 'n' the jacks 're always at that end. 
Ain't very many of 'em, but they's gen'ly some. 
"I'll tell yeh what less do. I got a good tentin' outfit. 
Less take it 'n the boat 'n' go to-night 'n' camp, sost to 
be up there early 'n the morning. That's the best time, 
you know." 
"All right, I guess 1 can fix it," I answered. "You go 
ahead and get ready, and I'll be over to the house in 
half an hour. What will 'we need to take in the way of 
grub?" 
"Oh, I got enough grub cached up at the maples to 
last us, 'n' I'll throw what else we want into my packsack 
'n' pick up -the rest up there as we go along." 
We separated and got our traps together, meeting at 
his house half an hour later, ready for the trip. It did 
not take long to get to the river and load the boat, and 
by the middle of the afternoon we had reached the boy's 
camp at the maples, about four miles up stream. Here 
he "dug up" a complete camp outfit, excepting blankets, 
from his snugly hidden cache, and we proceeded, 
equipped for staying two or three days if we chose. 
"Yeh see, the ducks *1I come in with the wind 'n' shoot 
down this way, 'n'en circle back 'gainst the wind. They 
come like a streak, 'n'en when they pass the pond they 
come back slow 'gainst the wind, sost to 'light; 'n'en, 
when they pass us, is the time to plunk it into 'em. They 
are goin' too fast with the wind, but they're easy comin' 
back." 
We had only got comfortably settled when a whistle 
of wings passed over us, going with the speed of an 
express train, with tlie wind. 
"Teal," said the boy, though it was still too dark to 
see more than a bit of swiftly moving black cloud against 
the sky as they passed. 
"They'll be back 'n a minute, 'n'en whale away at 'em 
as they pass. Shoot at the bunch if yeh can't see a 
single bird," said the boy. 
Sure enough, a few minutes after the sharp whistle 
of wings swiftly beating the air sounded again almost 
over us. 
"Give it to 'em," said the boy, as he turned both 
barrels loose at the moving mass. I did the same, though 
neither could tell whether we had killed a bird or scored 
a miss after the flash of the guns. 
"Reckon we must 'a' got one er two, anyhow," the 
boy remarked. "They can't get away, 'n' we can find 
'em when it gets light, if we did," he continued. 
When the next flock came the morning was gray 
enough to pick out our birds, and three teal fell as the 
guns barked. These the boy quickly brought in, and 
again we crouched, waiting in the grass. 
A bunch of five mallards came next, and we stopped 
every one, a proceeding that so elated the boy that he 
characterized it as "a whole lot lucky." 
Ducks in job lots kept coming, some passing without 
giving us a shot, others circling back only to fall as the 
guns cracked, and the pile grew beside us until we had 
beside himself, as he ran after the cripples, working like 
a 10 H. P. engine. 
When we had our six piled up the boy said: "Now I'll 
go 'n' git that ci-ipple out'n the pasture, 'n' you better 
circle around the other end of the pond by the springs, 
'cause maybe you'll git a jack er two in there yet." 
I did as directed, and got a pair of fine fat snipes out 
of five that pitched up from the march. Looking toward 
the boy, I saw him foot racing the wounded goose, 
which could half run, half fly, and keep ahead of him. 
After chasing it for a couple of hundred j'ards, he 
stopped, _ threw up his gun, and as the white puff of 
smoke pitched out of the gun the goose doubled up. 
Coming back, we gathered up our game and struck for 
camp, the boy keeping up a running fire of talk on geese 
in general and these geese in particular, as proud of 
outpotting the seven as though it had been the making 
of a million dollars — and probably more satisfied with it. 
When we reached camp he was willing to go home, and 
we soon had the boat under way. At the maples we 
re-cached his camp outfit and continued down .Stream, 
reaching home before dark, and every one that saw us on 
the way home from the boat had to stop and ask a thou- 
sand questions about those blessed geese. 
Er, COMANCHO. 
Little Assinaboine^s Charge. 
1 WAS much interested some time ago in reading in 
your columns, under the title "Stories of a Heroic Age," 
some accounts of Indian adventure by Messrs. Kelley 
and Grinnell, both of whom I have known for many 
years. These adventures took place in the old buffalo 
range, which was also the fighting ground for Sioux 
and Cheyennes against CroAvs, Blackfeet, Northern Gros 
THE MODELED FORM READV FOR THE SKIN. 
TAXIDERMY AND SCULPTUliE. 
THE UVIMG MODEL. 
When we reached a point opposite the ponds we 
pulled in and soon had camp made among some jack 
oaks that grew well above the river, and when darkness 
came we were comfortably housed. 
Ducks had been passed on the way up, flying in many 
directions, but none came near enough for a shot, as 
we were in midstream and only traveling, not taking any 
measures to conceal either ourselves or our boat. 
Darkness settled down with a muddy sky and a promise 
of dirty weather, a prospect that set the boy to whistling 
contentedly as he put the finishing touches on the camp. 
"Goin' to git a nor'west wind in the mornin', I 
reckon," he said, with a yawn; " 'n' if we do, we'll git 
ducks, too, 'cause they'll come a-hummin' from the 
north if it comes a little cold. 
"Less go to bed, sost we can git up early." 
We curled up in our blankets, and the last thing I 
remember was watching the flare of red spring out of 
the bed of coals where our fire had been, every time a 
little whirl of wind eddied down through the oaks and 
bulged the tent flaps open. 
"Hay! Goin' to sleep all day?" 
The boy was up and dressed and reaching for the 
strings that held the flaps of the tent together when I 
opened my eyes. It was still dark as pitch, and the boy 
had the lantern lit inside the tent. 
A cold, raw wind was hurrying down the river, tossing 
the branches and making the trees moan in a desolate 
way, and the low-hanging clouds hurried by with it. 
"Come on, less git a hustle on us, or it'll be daylight 
'fore_ we git started," said the boy, as he skurried around 
making preparations for our morning meal. 
I got the guns and shells out, and prepared the camp 
for leaving, while he was busy with the frying pan and 
coffee pot. 
"They're a-flyin','' he said, as a flock of ducks hurtled 
by on whistling wings, following the course of the river. 
After breakfast we hurried to the pond in the timber 
edge, and were soon concealed in the high slough grass 
on the lee side of the^vater, a position the boy sdected. 
twenty-nine between us for the morning's shooting when 
the flight ceased and we had gathered in all the cripples. 
"Less take these to camp, 'n'en go over to the other 
pond," said the boy. "Reckon we can get a few more 
over there if we sneak up on 'em, 'n'en we'll sure get a 
few jacks, too, round the springy end." We packed our 
game to the tent and then weat over to the pasture pond, 
walking up to it through a little draw that put into the 
valley. 
"Oh, gee!" said the boy, in a stage whisper, as he 
peeped over a little bank of earth that hid us from the 
water. 
"They's about fifty geese out there, settin' all tucked up 
like a lot o' mummies. Got any big shot?" 
"No, nothing but fours," I answered. 
"Well, here; pull yours out," he said, swiftly throwing 
out his duck loads and replacing them with BB shells. 
"I got lots of 'em, 'n' you can change your shot. Wish 
we both had the same size guns." 
He was digging out the wads from a couple of his 
i2-gauge shells with his hunting knife as he spoke, and 
I was working nervously with a couple of my No. los. 
When we had reloaded my shells with the heavy shot, 
the boy said: "Now, all ready; we'll count three 'n' 
raise up 'n' shoot. You take the left side o' the flock 
'n' I'll take the right. Git in two shots 'n'en load juss 
as quick as ever you can, 'cause they may circle back." 
The suspense was ended when the boy said "three," 
and we turned four loads loose among the unsuspecting 
geese at a distance of 30 or 40yds. A crackling flap of 
beating wings, mixed with frightened honkings and i. 
gabble of sounds, smote our ears as the flock took to 
the air, leaving six of their number unable to rise. The 
boy threw in another shell and pitched the load after 
the retreating birds, and another one spread his wings 
and sailed out of the bunch at a flat angle, striking the 
ground a quarter of a mile away in the open pasture. 
It took three more shots to stop the cripples before we 
could gather up the dead. 
"Gee! ain't this luck for yeh?" said the boy, fairly 
Ventres, and other plains tribes. On this old buffalo 
range the buffalo Indians used to meet and to fight, how 
bitterly and how bravely no one can appreciate who 
was not in the country at that time. 
The Crows and the Sioux were almost always at war, 
and the stories which I have referred to bring up to my 
recollection a tale told me by two Sioux Indians who 
were engaged in one of these battles. These men were 
named Lone Standing Bull and Roimd Wooden Cloud. 
I have no reason to doubt their veracity, and as will be 
seen later their story was confirmed by the appearance 
of the battleground as I saw it. 
It had been the practice of the Sioux war parties in 
attacking the Crows to send a small party to rush 
through the camp, and when the Crows turned out, to 
retreat, drawing most of the young men after them in 
pursuit. The fleeing Sioux would lead the Crows into 
an ambush already prepared, when of course the Sioux 
would usually gain the advantage. 
In the particular fight of which these two Indians told 
me thirty-one CroAvs, a horse, and a dog belonging to 
them were wiped out in the year 1870 by a large party of 
Sioux imder the leadership of Little Assinaboine. This 
is how it happened: 
A party of thirty-two Crows on a war expedition 
found themselves near the Yellowstone River close to 
a large Sioux camp. A council was held, and it was de- 
termined to raid the camp for their horses. All the 
Crows, with one exception, agreed to this, but one man 
claimed that the risk Avas too great, and that he would 
not remain. He therefore left the party and returned to 
camp, he being the only one of the ill-fated thirty-two 
ever to return home. 
Two scouts were sent forward to locate the horses 
belonging to the Sioux. They went close to the camp 
and lay in some brush, waiting for eA^ening, and while 
there two young Sioux boys were seen approaching 
mounted, but unarmed, no doubt going after horses. 
The Crows agreed that when the boys had come close 
