204 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[March 12, 1898. 
from 5 to 15ft. deep — a mighty promising looking place 
for fall bass fishing. Just above the camp was a long 
crib of heavy timbers filled in v^^ith rock — "ripraps," 
Bill called it — to keep the water from eating away the 
bank when there was a flood in the river. 
From the tail of the rifilie above, along past the rip- 
raps and the camp, down to the little island, the water 
was from 2 to loft. deep, and was a vci'y "bassy" look- 
ing piece of water had it been clearer. 
Tom chose the ripraps from which to make his first 
cast, and I went down along a path through the bushes 
to another crib of stone at a slight kink in the stream, 
a matter of looyds. below the camp. 
The river bottom in this bend was as nature made it, 
except for the long field of corn between the camp and 
the road along the base of the hill. The bank of the 
stream from the camp down around and below the el- 
bow was lined with willows, bushes and trees, some of 
them gigantic sycamores, with the natural woods reach- 
ing back to the cornfield. On the west side, where the 
stream made the turn, were well wooded hills, along 
which we frequently heard the barking of squirrels, 
which stirred up memories of boyhood days, and made 
us sorter wish for a gun. Altogether it was a very sat- 
isf3an' place for a camp, lacking only a good spring to 
make our cup of happiness run over, albeit we got pe- 
riodical whiffs of a pestiferous skunk, whose whereabouts ■ 
we couldn't locate, but which seemed to be within 
"smell" most of the time. Barring these two drawbacks 
and the muddy condition of the water, we had nothing 
to wish for to make our little camp more perfectly en- 
joyable. 
But then we can't always have just' what we want; 
if we could there would be nothing to growl at. 
I fished tlie lower ripraps for an hour and got nothing, 
and went on down fishing, when I could get to the 
stream for the bushes, to the bend below, but still got 
no sign of a bite. 
This was a trifle discouraging, and I went back to 
the crib and sat down on the soft side of a flat, ragged 
stone near the water and fished patiently till the sun 
dropped below the top of the hill across the stream be- 
low, and then made my way back to camp with one bass 
that would weigh probably a pound and a half — poor 
satisfaction for the afternoon's fishing, if satisfaction were 
measured by the number of fish taken — but that one 
looked like a good many to me, considering the con- 
dition of the water. 
Tom was still fishing along the ripraps above the 
camp, and when I told him of my catch I could see 
him "hump himself" with a suppressed chuckle, and I 
knew he was quietly laughing way down in his socks 
at the idea of "layin' old Hickory out," for he tri- 
umphantly held up his stringer, on which were four 
bass and a channel cat that would run from lib. to ij^lbs. 
in weight. 
Five bass and a cat made rather a poor showing for 
an afternoon's work of two old bass fishers, notably my 
part of the showing, but— "it is not all of fishing to fish," 
blessed be the memory of brother Dawson for the utter- 
ance of that truth. 
Tom quit fishing and started a fire for supper prepara- 
tions, and I made another trip up the hill road to the 
farmhouse for some fresh milk and another "rastle" 
with the "boss o' the ranch." 
We kept our promise and washed the dishes before 
supper and after, and then built a camp-fire and sat in 
front of it and smoked and planned for the morrow 
till it was time to try our new bed, and, oh, my! that 
bed! it was so restful and full o' solid comfort that 1 
don't think either of us turned over once till daylight 
was abroad. Kingfisher, 
[to be concluded.] 
An Animal Portrait Painter. 
The spirited antelope head which looks out from the 
page is the work of Mr. Carl Rungius, a young German 
artist, whose work is more or less familiar to our read- 
ers. 
Carl Rungius was born at Berlin in 1869, and is the 
son of a clergyman, who wished his son to follow the 
same profession. He was educated in a Latin school in 
Berlin, but at the age of eighteen determined that he 
would become an artist, and left school. In order to 
get a practical knowledge of large work and its effects 
he engaged himself with a fresco painter in Berlin, and 
worked during the summer in the buildings there, de- 
voting the winter months to study at .the Industrial Art 
School of Berlin. After some time at this he began 
sketching animals in the Zoological Gardens at Berlin, 
and continued this work for a year. The sketches made 
during this time having been sho\yn to Prof. Meyerheim, 
a prominent German animal painter, he at once took 
Rungius into his class at the Academy of Fine Arts. 
Here the young man worked for a year, and at the end 
of that time was honored with a diploma of proficiency. 
The first work that he exhibited was a lion's head 
shown at the great Berlin Art Exhibition in 1893. The 
head was much adm.ired, and was reproduced in certain 
of the art monthlies. After this Mr. Rungius served his 
year in the army, and during his term of service was 
promoted to officer's rank. 
The summer of 1894 Mr. Rungius accepted an invi- 
tation from an uncle residing in Brooklyn, and came 
to America. Before he had been here long he recog- 
nized that there was in this country a great field for 
animal study, as well as for big game hunting. In the 
autumn of 1894 he* visited the Maine wilderness, hunt- 
ing and sketching, and became very enthusiastic about 
the possibilities of wild life here. In 189S, at the Sports- 
men's Show, he formed the acquaintance of Ira Dodge, 
well known as a Wyoming guide and mountaineer, and 
spent four months of the following summer and autumn 
at Dodge's place in Wyoming. From this visit he re- 
turned in November with many sketches and trophies of 
his trip, all of which he carried back to his home in 
Berlin in 1896, where he at once set about working up 
the material hp bad gathered. Here he met Richard 
Friese and a number of other well-known animal paint- 
ers. His association with them was not only pleasant, 
but undoubtedly very useful. 
Several of his paintings and studies of scenes in tlie 
further West he sold at Berlin, but the attractions of 
America were too strong to allow him to remain in 
Europe, and in 1897 he returned to New York. He at 
once set about preparing for another and more extended 
trip to Wyoming, and spent a great part of last summer 
and autumn in the less known mountain ranges, whence 
he brought home in the late fall another good series of 
heads and sketches. During this trip he gave great at- 
tention to observing antelope and elk, and brought back 
a very large number of studies of these two species, both 
in pencil and oil. 
Mr. Rungius is a keen and painstaking observer of 
nature, and has learned a great deal about the life of 
many species of our big game. Besides this he is a good 
and untiring sportsman, while his industry and his ar- 
ti.stic.. skill with the brush ard not to be doubted. The 
hand that knows how to pull the trigger at the right 
moment can wield the brush at home with equal dex- 
terity. 
East African Mammals. 
]!Y D. G. ELLIOT, K.K.S.K. . - 
It is well remembered that in 1.896 the Fielf Colum- 
bian Museum sent out to East "Africa an 'expedition 
under the charge of Mr. D. G. Elliot to' collect ^exam- 
ples of the large wild animals of Africa. This expedition 
■was remarkably 'successful, and as w.e have before stated, 
obtained a -large sei-ies of . very .-many 'of the species in- 
habiting tlie country which it' ..traversed. Besides these 
specimens there were brought back as well photo- 
graphs, casts of heads and muscles and full measure- 
ments of the specimens" obtained. The proposed' expe- 
dition was to penetrate deep , into the interior, but the 
illness of the members caused it to fall short of ac- 
complishing this purpose, and for this reason the list 
of species is not absolutely complete. 
Through the kindness of the Director of the Field 
Columbian Museum, and' the leader of the expedition, 
who made a full report to the mtisfium, we are per- 
mitted to publish the following notes on some of the 
more striking species obtained. 
WyVRT Hog {Phacoch<zrns c^frifOjiusy; Native N.amr, D6far. 
The wart hog was frequently met with throughout 
the country traveled by us. The first one seen was at 
•Mandera, near the base of the Golis Range — a splendid 
boar with tushes over loin. long outside the moUth, and 
loin. across from tip to tip. He had seen me .and sought 
refuge in an almost impenetrable thicket of thdrii bushes. 
I took a position on one side, and sending the men into 
the bushes from the other, drove him out. He presented 
a grand appearance as he came, trotting majestically 
along, without the slightest evidence ^ of fear, his tail 
held upright with the. tassel pendent forward, and his 
mane, very long and thick, raised above the neck, and 
back. He passed within 6ft. of where I stood, and onl}"- 
the click of the hammer answered the pull of the trigger 
as I threw the muzzle of my rifle toward him. My 
shikari had forgotten to throw a shell into the chamber, 
before handing me the weapon. Of course the hog dis-' 
appeared at once among the bushes' and we \'5fere obliged 
to track him a long way before I got a snap shot at 
him about looyds. off, and broke his back. He was. the 
personification of rage when I walked up to him, chajiip- 
ing his tushes until the foam flew from his mottthr 
he made frantic but unavailing efforts to reach me. An- 
other bullet laid him Hfcless. 
We alwaj's seemed to see these pigs when they were 
running, and never when .going quietly about their busi- 
ness, the very open condition of the country generally 
permitting them to see us before we could them. They 
appeared to be somcAvhat independent of water, for we 
met them in the middle of the Hand where certainly 
the nearest water hole niust have been fifty miles away, 
too far, one might suppose, for them to seek daily. The 
wart hog is a fine-looking animal for a pig, the long 
mane and rather majestic carriage of the body, espe- 
cially in the full-grown males, adding greatly to their 
appearance. They have the courage of their race, and 
a wounded wart hog at close quarters would be a dan- 
gerous antagonist, as he could inflict fearful injuries 
with his formidable tushes. It is the only species found 
in this part of eastern Africa. It obtains its trivial name 
from the peculiar wart-like excrescences upon various 
parts of the head. These are very prominent and usu- 
ally pointed, and produce a very peculiar effect, not, 
however, one of beauty. The natives being Musstil- 
mans will not touch a hog or anything that has come 
in contact with one, so the European who desires to pre- 
serve one of these animals, either as a trophy or for 
scientific purposes, must do all the work himself, while 
his followers squat around him, criticise his skill or 
the lack of it, and make comments about him generally. 
When the members of a litter arrive at an age between 
one and two years they leave the parents and shift for 
themselves; at least this I imagine to be the case, for 
young pigs that I saw, and some of which I killed, 
roaming abottt without any adults near, and apparently 
quite independent of a parent's watchfulnees and care, 
were at least over a year old. It is difficult to esti- 
mate the number of j'oung usualli'^ found in a litter, but. 
I should suppose from four to eight would be nearly 
correct. Many fall victims to carnivorous beasts, leop- 
ards being especially fond of pork, so that the species 
is kept from undue increase. 
Swayne's ^K^-X's.-m^'=n {Buhalis stvaynei); Native Name, Sig. 
This rare antelope, to obtain which I made a special 
trip to Toyo Plain, is only found in a few localities 
on the elevated plateau south of the Golis Range and 
north of Ogaden. It dwells in the open, grassy plains, 
such as those of Toyo, Silo and Marar Prairie, and is 
never found among bushes, but keeps to the bare coun- 
try where its vision is uninterrupted by any object, trust- 
ing to its great swiftness to carry it beyond the reach 
of its enemies. This hartebeest goes in troupes and herds 
from a half dozen to many hundred individuals. On 
the plains inhabited by these animals the bushes are 
rarely oiger 2ft. high, and very few in any place, so that 
stalking,"^ la the usual acceptation of the term, is prac- 
tically an Impossibility, as the hartebeest see the hunter 
much more' quickly than they themselves are observed. 
Generally ' they arc first sighted along the horizon line 
of the plain, looking like black spots in the distance, but 
recognizable from their peculiar shape. It is an un- 
graceful creatui-e both in appearance and in action when 
in motion. The hindquarters are lower than the withers, 
and the animals seeih always to be standing up hill. But 
while it moves away in a lumbering kind of canter, it 
possesses the greatest staying power and is really the 
swiftest of all the antelopes, always graduating its pace 
to that of its pursuer, and keeping the same distance 
between them, looking back occasionally as if to sat- 
isfy . itself that its enemy had gained nothing in the 
.chase. ■ Single bulls are approached most easily, but 
- the larger the herd the more difficult it is to get near 
them, as the courage of the entire number is only equal 
.'to that of the most timid, and as soon as one begins to 
rim all are off at once. When one is seen in the dis- 
tance on the plain the hunter walks toward them in a 
direct line if they are busy feeding or moving slowly 
away, but should they stop to look around them the pur- 
suers, take a slanting direction as if intending to pass 
them or had not seen them. Sometimes, when almost 
near enough to try a shot, they begin to run in their 
rather slow, clumsy-looking canter, but which is not usu- 
..ally kept up for any great distance, when they stop and 
turn to look back. Where this happens, and it usually 
does inany times before the quarry is secured, or runs 
away altogether, the hunter has all his work to do over 
again. It is therefore only by exercise of much pa- 
tience and considerable staying powers a sufficiently near 
approach is gained for a fairly certain shot, anywhere 
between 200 and 400yds.; nearer than the first can sel- 
dom be secured, and frequently the latter is exceeded. 
An animal, wounded not in a vital part, or with one ' 
kg broken, will often run clear out of sight and escape, 
and it is practically useless to follow such a one, as 
it rarely permits a favorable opportunity for a second 
shot. On the plains it inhabits there is no water, save 
what may occasionally fall in showers during the brief 
so-called rainy season, and this antelope must go prac- 
tically without di'inking, at all events- for long periods. 
Those we killed were in excellent condition, but like 
all the ruminants of the country, possessed no fat what- 
ever. Swayne's hartebeest cannot be considered a game 
animal; there is very little sport or excitement in its 
pursuit, and if I had not needed specimens for scien- 
tific pm-poses, after killing one I should not have cared 
to shoot a second. The "Sig" stands between 4 and Sft. 
high at the withers. Both sexes possess horns, and 
these vary according to age both in the extent and man- 
ner of curvature. Some horns of bulls measure over 
23in. from tip to tip, but the majority is much below 
this. The flesh is dry and on account of the absence 
of fat is only fairly palatable. 
[to be continued.] 
Taxidermy and Sculpture* 
Editvf Forest and Stream: 
Under the above title there appears in a recent issue 
of this journal a peculiar article, which is full of very 
loose misstatements. Its writer tells us that "it was only 
■.a few years ago that some of the most enlightened taxi- 
■^dermists began to use a form of excelsior." Now, its 
common use began at least fifteen years ago, in special 
cases much earlier. "Then [that means after] some one 
suggested the idea of covering that manikin with a thin 
coat of papier mache or wet clay," etc. Many persons 
have positive knowledge that clay was used over thirty 
years ago, but of course our friend knows nothing of that. 
He goes on to tell us: ".For this reason the very best of 
their specimens were void of form save, for a few out- 
lines and for their attitudes, which were often correct." 
"Void of form," then "correct," is good. Our gentle 
critic tells us of a "great drawback to the use of wet clay 
manikins," namely, "the bursting of the skin caused 
by the clay being next to the skin and continually ab- 
sorbing the animal matter out of the skin. After a while 
this dries and burns the skin," etc. I understand by this 
that the bursting is caused by the absorption of animal 
matter (he does not tell us what animal matter) by the 
clay, and that the burning takes place afterward; that 
is, after the animal matter is absorbed! What other 
meaning can it have? Now, burning of a skin is caused 
by the oxidation of the fat left in the skin; but of course 
this writer knows nothing of such a common, simple 
thing as this. "Burnt skins" are common, but they 
rarely come in contact with clay. Besides, what ab- 
sorption of animal matter by clay can take place that 
is not equally traceable to the drying powers of the air? 
I can confidently assert that clay is not the cause of a 
skin cracking or opening down a seam. The abuse of 
clay and its unskillful use undoubtedly Gause trouble, but 
this does not often occur. 
Now our friend makes no distinction in his approval 
of the method he mentions between mounting a long- 
haired animal and a short-haired one. Undoubtedly a 
plastic method with fineness of modeling is exceedingly 
useful for the latter case; but think of the artist wast- 
ing his time and energies when 4in. of hair hides his 
fine details! What use would it be? But he makes no, 
distinction. There are in the National Museum many 
mammals mounted on clay manikins; yet, except in 
one case, there is no sign of bursting. The exception 
was not due to clay. Hornaday's zebra, elephant, tiger 
and others are unchanged; they are as they were when 
they left the artist's hands. The extravagant language 
of our writer is only too evident when he tells us he is 
"greatly handicapped by a sl<in." The form of a horse 
he illustrates is not taxidermy; it is sculptitre; the 
mane and tail prove this, for such things belong to the 
skin, not to the manikin or model. 
It is the rule in taxidermy that skins reach the taxi- 
dermist's hands rough, with few or no measurements, 
perhaps no bones, no photographs, no notes. Perhaps 
there is no good picture extant; or if so, how often is 
it acc'essible to the individual who most needs it? It 
1 
