50 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July, 16, 1898. 
good fire, let the chowder boil twenty-five minutes; 
when this is done have a quart of boiling milk ready and 
ten hard crackers split and dipt in cold water, add milk 
and crackers, let the whole boil five minutes, the chow- 
der is then ready and will be first rate if you have follow- 
ed the directions. An onion is added if you like that 
flavor." 
Chicago Fly-Casting Club. 
tcago, July 9. — Editor Forest and Stream: The regu- 
lar meeting of the club was held to-day, with scores as 
follows: 
Long Dis- Distance- Bait 
tance Fly, and Acc'y, Casting, 
Feet. Per Cent. Per Cent. 
T D Belasco 86 2-5 
I H Bellows no 90 2-3 98 1-5 
B W Goodsell 108 93 1-3 73 2-5 
H G Hascall 107 86 2-3 97 3-5 
E R Letterman 61 1-3 93 
C A Lippincott .... 96 3-5 
C G Ludlow 101 79 2-3 92 1-5 
G A Murrell 75 1-3 97 1 -5 
H D Osgood 74 2-3 .... 
F N Peet 118 89 88 1-5 
H W Perce 64 96 2-5 
E A Renwick ior 66 2-3 83 
G W Salter 62 1-3 84 
A C Smith 80 77 2-3 97 
J E Strong 93 95 2-5 
Holders of Medals. — Long distance fly. F. N. Peet: 
distance and accuracy. B. W. Goodsell; bait casting. 1. 
H. Bellows. 
Canadian Angling Resorts. 
^ Under the title of the "Anglers' Guide to Eastern 
Canada." Mr. E. T. D. Chambers, editor of the Quebec 
Morning Chronicle, has prepared a concise and compre- 
hensive manual of directions for reaching the salmon, 
trout, ouananiche and bass waters of Quebec, Nova Scotia. 
New Brunswick and Newfoundland. A large share of 
the material has been drawn from the author's personal 
pxoerience on the waters described, and special pains 
have been taken. Mr. Chambers tells us, to verify all 
statements, so that the guide may be absolutely depended 
upon. The book is a model of plain and clear state- 
ments, and will serve the purpose admirably. Mr. 
Chambers should add an index to the next edition. The 
price is 25 cents. 
Fishing at Charleston Lake. 
Charleston, Ont., July 2. — Salmon fishing in shallow 
water is about over. Dr. Brown, Dr. Denison, J. J. 
Roberts. V. A. Harder and W. H. Loomis had extra 
good luck, in three days capturing ninety-five salmon 
averaging from 4 to ioj^lbs.; the last was caught by 
Mr. Loomis. Dr. Alexander and E. T. Foster landed 
a salmon weighing i7^41bs. 
Bass fishing is just opening in this lake. The guests 
at Cedar Park are having rare sport. Capt. Adams, Geo. 
Madole. Fred Roblin, J. Canfield, D. P. Hanthaway and 
W. S. Silver left a few days ago, having had some fine 
sport black bass fishing. A 4lb. small-mouth was gath- 
ered in by Mr. Roblin. W. H. Leavitt. 
Fishing Resorts. 
We shall be glad to give information respecting de- 
sirable fishing resorts to any reader of Forest and 
Stream. 
he Mennel. 
Fixtures. 
Sept. 7. — Manitoba Field Trials Club trials. William C. Lee, 
Sec'y, Winnipeg, Man, 
Sept. 12. — Northwestern Field Trials Club's Champion Stake, 
near Winnipeg. Thos. Johnson, Sec'y. . 
Xov. 7. — Indiana Field Trials Club's trials, Bicknell, Ind. W. 
H. Dye, Sec'y. 
- Nov. 11. — Eastern Field Trials Club's trials, Newton, N. C. 
S. C. Bradley, Sec'y. 
Nov. 15. — International Field Trial Club's trials, Chatham, Ont. 
VV. B. Wells, Sec'y. 
Dec. 5-6.— Missouri Valley Field Trial Club's trials. C. H. 
Werner, Sec'y. 
Dec. — . — Continental Field Trial Club's trials, Lexington, N. 
C. W. B. Meares, Sec'y. 
A Coon Hunt Mystery. 
Connecticut.— Editor Forest and Stream: The rattle 
of the last washed dish, as it was deposited 
in its individual pile, had ceased to echo through 
the kitchen of the farmhouse. The large combina- 
tion wood or coal burning stove diffused throughout 
the room a grateful Tieat, for it was autumn and the even- 
ing air was filled with a decided chill. In the center of the 
dining table a shaded lamp cast its not over effulgent 
rays into every corner. Excepting the occasional snap 
and crackle which emanated from the cheery applewood 
fire that burned in the interior of the stove, or the 
rhythmical purr of the large gray and wite Thomas cat 
who disported his generous proportions in lazy grace- 
fulness before the fire, a perfect quietness pervaded the 
room; not that it was devoid of human presence, for 
there were five of us there. Excepting the young man 
who manipulates the chores and does other necessary 
work about the farm, and who lay, with half-closed eyes, 
on the lounge, watching the hazy rings which arose 
from his corncob pipe, each individual was industrious- 
ly extracting knowledge and pleasure from the pages 
of Forest and Stream and other periodicals. 
Such quiet, peaceful surroundings are apt to produce 
in a tired person a feeling of drowsy languor, from 
which it is but a step to drop into the land of dreams. 
I was nodding and about to take that step when sud- 
denly out on the road there arose the noisy clatter of 
rapidly-approaching wheels; soon a wagon dashed up 
to the front of the house and stopped; then a voice was 
hoard to say: "I wonder if this is the house? You go 
and ask, anyhow. There will be no karm in asking." 
"Oh, I guess this is the place right enough," answered 
another voice, "they said we would find a bull terrier 
chained out south of the house, and if that cuss making 
all the noise isn't the gentleman I'll eat him." 
Our bull terrier Ben, who has been one of the family 
for over seven years, and who is extremely jealous of 
any intrusion by strangers on our domains, was on the 
verge of strangulation owing to his wild endeavors to 
break his chain in order to form their close acquaintance. 
Footsteps were now heard rapidly advancing up the 
walk. Presently a loud knock rang out on the side door. 
As I opened it the full, round October moon revealed a 
tall, young, 6ft. stranger, who inquired: "Does Mr. Avis 
live here?" "I am that person," I answered, "what do 
you wish?" 
"We are members of the New Haven Coon Club," 
he answered. "Brooks told us if we would come out 
some night he Would go on a coon hunt with us. We 
called at his house to-night, but Brooks was away. Say! 
won't you come with us for two or three hours?" he 
asked persuasively. "Brooks' folks said we might get 
you to go." 
Now I didn't feel much inclined to go coon hunting 
that night. I was tired and sleepy. "But then," thought 
I. "these persons have come all the way from New 
Haven to indulge in a few hours' recreation. If they 
should be compelled to return without engaging in their 
hunt they would be grievously disappointed. It is in 
my power to accommodate them, so I guess I'll do it." 
"Hadn't you and your friends better come in and warm 
yourselves while I get ready?" I asked. 
"No, thank you." he answered. ''We're not cold. 
We'll wait outside for you." 
"Who is it?" asked my wife, as I entered the room. 
"Oh, it's a party that want me to go coon hunting 
with them." I answered. 
"Going?" inquiringly. 
"Guess I'd better: don't you think I had?" I answered. 
"It's a fine night;" she said, as she glanced out of the 
window at the big, bright moon, "you're foolish if you 
don't go. If it wasn't for leaving the children. I believe 
I'd go too!" 
This conversation had the effect of thoroughly awak- 
ing Sam, the farm hand. When my wife jokingly sug- 
gested that it would be beneficial to his health if he 
would get out and exercise himself, he decided to go 
along, Ten minutes later the bright moonlight would 
have revealed t© a chance observer a grotesque appear- 
ing party of five bipeds and one quadruped as they took 
their way down the road and across the fields in the 
direction of the nearest corn patch. One carried a lan- 
tern, while two others carried shotguns. A fourth was 
armed with an axe. while the fifth was content to carry a 
pair of creepers such as telegraph linemen use. The 
sixth member of the party, the quadruped, trotted con- 
tentedly along in the rear. 
The corn patch, which we were not long in reaching, 
was bordered on the west and south by an extensive 
swamp. Huge maple, chestnut, oak and hickory trees 
reared their towering forms above the swamp's gloomy 
shadows. 
When we had arrived at the sotifhern end of the corn 
field, after scrambling and struggling through the 
swamp, the dog, a black and tan hound and a famous 
coon dog, was sent ahead to investigate. 
We lay expectantly awaiting results on the edge of 
the swamp where the moon cast the deep, somber 
shadows of the trees on the ground. Conversation was 
carried on in cautious, subdued whispers lest we might 
frighten away any game that might be about. We lay 
in this manner for fully half an 'hour, tken, as the hound 
had given no sign of game, he was called in and we 
started across the swamp in the direction of another corn- 
field on its western edge. 
We floundered around in the swamp for what seemed 
an hour. I had been made the butt of much ridicule 
and many jibes as to my guiding abilities, when we 
finally emerged in a cornfield. Now it was my turn 
to be funny, so I sarcastically remarked that "nobody 
fresh and green from the city could understand the 
first principle connected with the finding of one's way 
through the trackless forest, especially at night." I had 
proceeded thus far when my words came to a sudden 
stop. Surely there was something wonderfully familiar 
about this place. There to the south arose a fringe of 
giant trees. Its western edge too was deeply bordered 
with trees. The old moon seemed to wink and indulge 
an expansive, silvery grin; a burst of rollicking, de- 
risive laughter awoke the sepulchral echoes of the tomb- 
like swamp. After parading those fellows through the 
mud and briers of the swamp for fully an hour, I had 
awkwardly succeeded in conducting them back to the 
very corn patch from which we had started. Surely my 
best hold was not "guiding parties through the 'trackless 
forest,' especially at night." This experience demon- 
strated how easy it was to lose one's way in the woods, 
even when those woods were familiar and near home. 
Well, they were a jolly, good-natured crowd, and 
seemed to derive as much enjoyment from my discom- 
fiture as they would had a coon been started; it was 
voted, therefore, that I should try it over again. 
This time I succeeded in striking within half a mile 
of where I aimed. As we emerged from the swamp the 
hound was sent away and it wasn't long before his mel- 
low music was leading us a merry chase over the silvery 
flooded landscape. Across the open fields and through 
brambly patches of blackberry and other prickly vines; 
over a silvery, ribbon-like stream, the lisping waters of 
which tremulously reflected, in their nervous, shallow 
depths, "Luna," the fair "Queen of Night." On and 
on, under canopied forest arches whose wealth of autumn 
colors showed even in the moonlight.; into enchanting 
dells, where one almost looked for fairy bands; through 
open fields lavishly scattered with glimmering frost 
jewels. Surely it seemed we were in a land not of 
this earth. 
We had followed the hound in this manner for perhaps 
two miles, when suddenly his music ceased, How to ac- 
count for this strange action on his part puzzled us 
considerably. We whistled, then listened, but whistle 
and listen as we would, he gave no sound to radicate 
where he was. 
"Well, this beats me." remarked H,, his owner, after 
whistling and calling for fully ten minutes. "I never 
knew him to act like that before." 
"Nor I either," said another of the party. 
"It's something new for him; I hope he hasn't fallen 
over one of those ledges over there and been killed." 
"Oh, don't worry about him; he's all right, and I'll 
bet he is." said a third member confidently. 
"It may be that he has been running a fox or rab- 
bit and has holed him," remarked the second speaker. 
"No man ever knew that hound to notice any game 
but coon," rejoined the dog's owner. "Besides, when 
he trees or holes his game he always barks up," with 
these words he raised his voice and started the echoes 
once more. 
After listening intently for awhile longer, it was de- 
cided to start in the direction where we had last heard 
him. This led us directly toward a line of nearly 
abrupt, ledgy cliffs, fully 200ft. in height. 
When we arrived within about 500yds. of the base of 
the ledges we stopped under a giant oak that stood on 
the edge of a field where buckwheat had been raised. 
No sound broke the stillness of the night. Not the 
faintest zephyr's sigh breathed through the inanimate 
leaves acid branches overhead. The soft moonbeams 
sifting silently down • through the wide-spreading 
branches of the tree portrayed their forked outlines in 
fantastic shapes upon the frosty ground. The towering 
ledges, under "Luna's" soft flood of light, stood out to 
sight as plainly as they would had it been midday. Here 
and there in the clear vaulted heavens a ghost-like star, 
paled by the light of the moon, struggled to be seen. 
"How beautiful," the words were almost whispered by 
one of the party, yet they seemed too loud in that 
place. 
"We never get a treat like this in the city," said H.. 
turning to me. "I wish we knew what has become of 
the dog though," he continued, as thoughts of the hound 
came into his mind. 
"Oh, I think he'll — " I never finished the sentence, for 
my words were cut short by a cry that seemed filled with 
the bitterest agony; a cry that cut the frosty air like a 
knife; that sent chills up and down some of our spinal 
columns and caused us to stare into each other's faces 
in blank amazement: from the side of the ledges it came 
and it rolled away in ghoulish echoes along the semi- 
mountain side. 
"For God's sake, what was that?" hoarsely whispered 
H. as h° grasped my arm. 
Before I had time to answer the cry was repeated: 
shrill, piercing, quavering, it ended in a prolonged, chok- 
ing sob that resembled the long-drawn cry of h-e-l-p. It 
was suggestingly human. 
"That's a panther, and I'll bet he has killed and 
eaten the dog!" excitedly whispered the o-footer. 
"I don't think it's a panther. A panther yells alto- 
gether different from that," said the tat man of the 
party. "I'll be hanged if it don't sound just as bad as a 
panther, though," he added nervously as another cry 
issued from among the rocks. 
"I think it's a lynx, one of those bob-tailed wildcats 
with tassels on their ears," said the quiet man. "I heard 
one up in northern New York State once and it sounded 
something like that." 
"I wonder do ghosts ever go around bellerin' that 
way," remarked Sam, the farm hand, as he gave me a sly 
wink. 
"Ghosts! Who believes in — oh — ho — Lord! There it 
goes again!" shiveringly gasped the fat man; he was 
growing more and more nervous. 
"Let's get out of this, I've had all the coon hunting 
I want. I'm going home!" declared the o-footer, who 
now looked ready to run for his life. 
At that moment we were startled by a rustling in . the 
brush near by. Those who had guns grasped them firm- 
ly, while those who were unarmed showed unmistakable 
signs of a nervous desire to precipitately retire from that 
neighborhood. There was no occasion, however, for 
alarm, for just as that mysterious cry welled forth from 
the ledges once more, the old hound trotted up to us 
from out the bushes. 
Six or eight times the cry pierced' the frosty air. To 
say that it was one of the wierdest experiences I ever 
met in the woods is to but tell the truth. The very con- 
ditions under which we heard it but added to its wierd 
ness. The moonlight covering the earth like a blanket 
of silver; the frost shimmering from every spangled ob- 
ject; the deep shadows of the trees; the intense stillness 
of the night, broken at intervals by that wild cry, and the 
subdued whispers of our party, all these conducive in- 
fluences were naturally productive of wierdness. Al- 
though we were but nine miles from the center of a 
large city, still that section is very wild. It can be safe- 
ly said that twenty persons a year do not visit those 
ledges. 
It was suggested by one of the party that an effort 
be made to induce the hound to track whatever caused 
the cry. When we tried to get him to investigate, how- 
ever, while he showed no actual fear, still in his polite, 
canine way, he declined to take part in any such arrange- 
ment.. When told to "Go find 'em," he turned his head 
toward the place from which the crv emanated, but al- 
ways kept his eyes on the person who extended the in- 
vitation to "Go find 'em," then, with his tail industrious- 
ly wagging, he would sit down and look up into our 
faces, as much as to say, "I'll hunt coons all night long, 
but what-is-its are out of my. line of business." 
What caused the cry we probably never will know. 
Sam, the farm hand, and myself went (not without 
some misgivings, I confess) the next night to that spot 
among the ledges from which the cry had seemed to 
emanate. We waited until after 12 o'clock, but saw nor 
heard nothing. It is needless to say that our shells con- 
tained buckshot. 
Some time after our adventure a crazy man was taken 
into custody who had been running more or less at large 
in the woods that summer and fall. As he was captured 
within three or four miles of where we heard the cry, I 
have alwavs wondered if he was in any way connected 
with it. Thus ends the story of our memorable coon 
hunt. 
As I expect to engage in a number of coon hunts this 
fall, I hope in the near future to send Forest and 
Stream an account of a hunt in which the returns in 
the capture of game will be more satisfactory than they 
were on the hunt when we heard that mysterious cry. 
Wit-UAM H, Avis, 
