FOREST AND STREAM. 
147 
[new typewriter, and we correspond that way now. Gokey 
writes to me: "It has been some time since I heard 
from you, and I thought I would write to see if you are 
„oing to have on your shooting clothes this fall. Hunt 
them up and come on out here. The lakes are full of 
ducks, and lots of them are tagged lor Gokey & Co. 
I hope to see you and Mr. Waters here again, so I can 
wipe your eyes. [He didn't do it. He was under the 
wagon!] Chickens are more plentiful than for several 
- years, and the lakes and sloughs are full of ducks and 
geese. I have a number of engagements with parties 
booked from Boston and New York, but if you will 
come I will find time to care of you." 
I hardly think it likely I will see the wonderful shoot- 
ing country around Dawson again this fall, but I know 
I should like nothing better were it possible, and I shall 
never forget the afternoon that Mr. Waters and I had 
with State Warden Bowers and Gokey, of Dawson. It's 
a bit far-offish to sit in an office and write about sport; 
but that was the real thing. 
The Bannocks are Out. 
Telegraphic advices of Aug. 12 state that some forty 
Bannock Indians have appeared in the Jackson's Hole 
[country, and have been slaughtering elk. Deputy War- 
den Pyle has wired Gov. Richards that the Indians have 
[successfully resisted arrest. Secretary of the Interior 
Bliss has advised Gov. Richards to call out troops from 
Ft. Washakie to drive back the Bannocks. 
Michigan July Grist. 
State Warden Osborne, of Michigan, reports that in 
the month of July just past he made twenty-six arrests 
and secured fifteen convictions for violations of the game 
and fish -laws. 
A North Dakota Game Region. 
Mr. J. E. Galehouse, Jr., deputy warden at Carring- 
ton. N. D., writes me that he is in one of the best goose, 
duck and chicken regions of the State, and adjacent to 
canvasback waters which are as good as any. "The young 
of the above birds," he says, "are in plenty this year, and the 
year promises to surpass former years in their numbers, 
especially of chickens and grouse." Mr. Galehouse will 
mswer inquiries for chicken country. 
Mr. Charles Stewart Stobie will leave about Sept. 1 
to join his friend, Major James B. Thompson, of Den- 
ver', Colo., they two outfitting at Glenwood and going- 
north into the country about the middle fork of the 
White River. 
The item last above given is simple enough m the 
statement, but it is well worth more than the state- 
ment. Mr. Stobie is going back to the West because he 
loves the West, and has known it for very many years. 
In the old, old days, when the old Crawford Opera 
House, of Chicago, was headquarters for the artists of 
this community, Mr. Stobie was an appreciated member 
of that Latin "quarter. He was an associate of Earle, 
Elkins and others of the Chicago artists, who have made 
a name or gone over the range. Away back in the 
early days there was a real West, and Mr. Stobie was 
dniwn to it, as many men would be to-day if such a 
country existed. He has to-day the real right to the 
title of old timer, although he carries his years so light- 
ly that he does not seem to date back to the early days. 
Yet he was ten years among the Ute Indians, living 
with them and studying them, and learning them as few 
men have ever done. He knows the old-timer's chart of 
the West, and was on the buffalo range at the time the 
first skin-hunting parties began to come in and to kill 
the buffalo for their robes alone. He saw the passing 
of the buffalo, and saw the changed conditions which 
have hedged in the hunting of the Indians and of the 
white men. He has gone back to the West from time to 
time, though latterly his home has been in Chicago. He 
ought to be satisfied to dwell in the cities, but someway 
the fascination of the old days comes along once in 
awhile and takes him back into the mountains, which 
are still peopled, at least with the ghosts of the past. 
In the old days Mr. Stobie's frequent associate and hunt- 
ing companion was Major Thompson, and the two are 
going back for a look at their old country. They will 
have some good bear dogs along, and expect to get a lion 
or two, and perhaps have some fun with a bear. 
Speaking of mountain lions, Mr. Stobie relates to me 
the third instance I have known where a mountain lion 
has really been known to attack a man. Of course, a 
great many such stories have been printed, but I mean 
the authentic stories, describing real incidents. Mr. 
Stobie says that one time, when he was riding horse- 
back along a rocky trail, he heard the swish of a lion's 
tail in the leaves, and looked up barely in time to lean 
forward as the lion sprang at him. The animal missed 
its aim and fell beyond the horse, Mr. Stobie firing at 
ip. with his. revolver as it fell, but not hitting it, as the 
horse sprang away. The creature seemed to have the 
idea that it could eat up a whole horse, and incidentally a 
man. A great many rather vivid things used to happen 
in those days, and Mr. Stobie tells me of one little bear 
fight in which he saw some mounted Indians mixed up 
with a grizzly, or rather a silver tip, which Mr. Stobie 
does not consider to be a grizzly. The young braves 
crowded in about the bear, trying to do the bow and 
arrow act with it, and one of them got too close. The 
bear made a swipe with its arm, and struck the pony of 
one unlucky Indian upon the haunch, stripping all the 
flesh off the hip of the horse clean to the bone, and 
knocking both horse and rider in a heap. At least one 
observer of the incident came away impressed with the 
strength of an able-bodied bear. 
I should be depriving myself of a pleasure if I did not 
speak of the visit of Mr. Stobie to the art rooms where 
some of his paintings are on exhibition. Here I saw 
the cowboy of the West, as he was and still is in some 
parts of the West. I saw the Indians of the old days, the 
chiefs painted and decorated in their war shirts and bon- 
nets, the latter as they used to be made in the days 
before the white men came, not as the}' are made now 
Ipr sale in curiosity shops. Here you saw the real 
color and the atmosphere of the West, and its former 
people stood before you, so that the first thought was 
one' of thankfulness to Mr. Stobie, a§ tg a' yery few 
other men of this country, that they are securing to 
future generations the opportunity of seeing what this 
country once was and what were its inhabitants. A great 
many men are now doing that sort of thing in one way 
or other, but Mr. Stobie can tell some of them, very 
calmly, about how such and such things used to be be- 
fore they were born! It always sort of cools me down to 
have anyone tell me about things that happened before 
I was born. Of course, the first impression of a human 
being is that what happened before he was born, or 
which will happen after he is dead, cannot be of much 
real importance to the world, but there were happenings 
in the old West of which people will some day read on 
the printed page, or on the pictured canvas, with an 
interest more absorbing than that which they now 
accord. 
A Real Hot Lynx Story. 
In the columns of the. daily press you get a great many 
stories of terrific encounters between men and wild 
beasts. I have had occasion to say that I have heard 
of three cases where a mountain lion has attacked a 
man. In one of these cases the beast thought the man 
was a deer. In the Sunday papers I have read of 
many cases where "panthers" have had awful fights with 
men, the men always coming out victorious, and with 
their dialect uninjured. In the Sunday papers you read 
of bear fights happening in Maine and Pennsylvania, or 
elsewhere within the natural range of the New York- 
Sunday papers, in country where there never was any 
bear but a black bear, which latter animal never did 
have as much fight to him as a healthy hog. You read 
also of horrible fights with immense lynxes, which latter 
usually weigh at least "8olbs." In the lynx fight there 
is always a great deal of blood shed, and the hero goes 
to Congress, or something of that sort. 
I wonder how it would seem to readers of the fakes of 
the daily press on such matters to read an actual lynx 
story, just as it really happened, ^without any coloring? 
I have such a story before me now, from the hand, of 
Fay L. Buck, a young man who lives at Manitowish, 
Wis., where I met him and went out trapping with him 
one winter. Fay Buck is a powerful young fellow, a fine 
woodsman and guide, and the best about him is that he 
tells the truth. He is about as much afraid of a lynx as he 
is of a woodchuck, and it appears that when he wants 
any young cats of that kind he doesn't mind the. mother 
of the litter very much. This is his story: 
"I had a little experience with some lynxes the other 
day which may be interesting to some of the readers of 
Forest and Stream. I went out to pick some rasp- 
berries for my guests, when about half-past ten in the 
morning I heard a peculiar noise a short distance away, 
and being rather inquisitive, I went over to see what 
was going on. To my surprise I found an old lynx 
and two young ones. As soon as they saw me the two 
young lynxes started to climb trees, each one a different 
tree, and the old one ran off. 
"Now, how was I to capture the young ones alive; 
I had a string or piece of heavy fish line, about 2ft. 
long, and I made a slip knot in one end and tied a stick 
about 3ft. long on the other end, in the middle. I took 
off my shoes and proceeded to climb the tree. The 
first lynx was up a little dead maple tree, close to a birch 
stub The limbs on the tree were dead and would break 
off when I touched them, which made climbing very 
difficult, but, of course, the little fellow went to the 
top and so did I. He appeared to be very much an- 
noyed, but by a long struggle I got the slip noose of 
my string on his hind foot. He then jumped over on the 
birch stub, and I let go of the stick which was at the 
other end of the string, and the weight of the stick on 
his hind foot slowly took him to the ground. I managed 
to be at the bottom of the tree as soon as he was, and to 
my surprise the old lynx was hid and I did not see 
her until she sprang. She struck me in the back just 
before I let go of the tree, and she tore my shirt half 
off I whirled and struck her with my fist, and picked 
up a club, and she jumped one side. I then picked up 
the young one that was fastened to the string, and car- 
ried him off about ten rods, where I left him. This 
drew the attention of the old lynx while I went back 
after the other young one, which was at the top of a 
large burnt hemlock. 
"This was not a very encouraging job, as my shirt 
was about half gone, but anyway I proceeded as before. 
I got to the top, and the limb the little fellow was on 
broke and he fell to the ground and hid under some 
brush. I got down carefully, threw a stick_ across him 
and stepped on the stick until I slipnoosed his hind foot. 
Then I had the two young fellows safe. 
"There was an old burnt lumber camp close by. where 
I found an old tin boiler with a cover to it. I put the 
two lynxes in it and carried them home. My berry 
picking was quite successful, I thought. The old lynx 
followed me for about a mile. I have the two young 
ones, which are about two months old, in a cage about 
8ft. square, and they are doing well. I was a pretty sight 
when I got home." 
This is a real lynx story, written by a man who has 
not gone to Congress, and who is not the oldest inhabi- 
tant. It's a pretty good story, and it is true. 
E. Hough. 
1200 Boyce Building, Chicago, III. 
Deer in Vermont. 
St. Johnsbury, Vt, Aug. 11. — The rumored com- 
plaints of farmers whose crops were being destroyed by 
deer, and the stories of deer being herded with cattle 
and hanging around the mowing lots to pick up the hay 
left by the rakes, and of locomotive engineers who were 
compelled to slow down to avoid breaking the law re- 
garding killing deer out of season, would lead a stranger 
to suppose that the State of Vermont had become one 
great deer park, and that an amateur sportsman could 
kill all the deer he wanted anywhere during the open 
season. The facts are that deer are plenty, and good 
sport may be had by experienced gunners, who seek 
them in the territory where they abound, but in many 
parts of the State deer are as scarce as they are in 
New York city. I saw Mr. John W. Titcomb, State 
Game Commissioner, and he said: "The increase in 
deer is due to the natural increase of wild animals when 
protected by the State for a reasonable number of years, 
and the turning out of a number of deer by private 
sportsmen a number of years ago. Last year there were 
perhaps 150 deer killed in the State, 104 of which were 
reported to me. The largest number, thirty-one, were 
killed in Windsor county; twenty-six in Rutland county, 
and four were reported from Essex county, and three 
from Orleans county. This would lead to the con- 
clusion that the deer were bunched in the region west of 
Rutland in the southern part of the State. I believe 
there are more deer, and that there will be better sport 
in this State this fall than anywhere within the same 
distance of New York city." 
Many experienced gunners say that while Rutland 
county may contain more deer than Essex, Orleans or 
Franklin counties, yet they would advise amateur sports- 
men to go into the extreme northern part of the btate 
and start in say at Hyde Park, Barton, or some smaller 
towns in those, counties. It is always advisable, and in 
some places absolutely necessary, to employ a guide. 
Exegisis. 
The Distinction is Merely Technical. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have read every copy of the Forest and Stream 
from its first number and (while I may be easily pleased) 
I have never read an editorial that I could take any ex- 
ceptions to, on the contrary, have been able to endorse 
them most heartily. 
Yours this week, "Essentially a Thief," is all right with 
one exception, it should be a thief. No man has a 
right to shoot or fish until the day of the open season, 
and any man who docs it is a thief pure and simple. I 
can't understand how a man can steal game or fish and 
excuse himself. I know men who would not think "of 
breaking any other law, would not steal anything, but do 
not hesitate to violate the game laws and steal game and 
fish. 
I hope the time will come when men will not sneak 
into a cover two or three days before the open season 
any more than they would into your barn and take 
your horse. 
The good work has been going on in your office 
for years, trying to bring men up to the high standard 
which all sportsmen should occupy, and as we all know 
your efforts have not been in vain. Let the good work 
go on. Pound the game thieves, stick to the old piank, 
stop the sale of game, go for the market shooters and go 
for the violators of the game laws as you have in the 
past, and you will have your reward. H. 
Hudson, N. V , Aug. 11. 
California Game. 
Redlands, Cal.. Aug. 1.— The writer, with two others, 
has just returned from a burro trip to Bluff Lake, Bear 
Valley, etc. We took along two cameras, and got a 
lot of view's. We saw lots of gray squirrels and mountain 
quail. I saw one brood of quail that were fully grown 
and another just large enough to fly. There were three 
deer killed in the mountains south of Gus. Knight s 
Bear Vallev resort last week. One of our party saw a 
deer and also a mountain lion. We did not fish any, as 
the trout are all about caught out. We only killed a 
few doves and squirrels, the former before we left the 
valley at home. Several parties here have been out for 
deer, but no deer have as yet been killed by any of them. 
There is a warden in the mountains, and he keeps pretty 
close watch over the game. There are lots of valley quail 
apd rabbits, and there has also been some dove shoot- 
ing. The band-tail pigeons have come down out of the 
mountains, and some shooting may be had in the elder 
brush around Yucaipe. 
Reelfoot. 
To Study the Yellowstone Park. 
Washington, Aug. 13. — Commissioner Binger Her- 
mann of the General Land Office, will leave Washing- 
ton to-day for his home in Oregon. Before returning 
he will visit the Yellowstone National Park and reserva- 
tions in California, with a view to studying the needs of 
those parts of the public domain. 
Honesty the Best Policy. 
1 I 
Amateur Sportsman— "Confound it all! Been out all 
day and haven't shot a thing. But I'm not going home 
empty-handed, and here comes just the boy I'm looking 
fOT - ' -It 
"Say boy! I'll give you twenty-five cents each for 
those "birds. You'll take it? Good! You have eight. 
Here are two dollars. ^ 
"Oh, say! Talk about being proud when I Walk 
back through the city with this string of birds! Of 
course I will have to do some tall lying, but that doesn t 
count. Put them in my bag? Nit!" 
IV. 
Stranger— "Good aft'noon, neighbor! Had putty good 
luck to-day, eh?" . 
Amateur Sportsman (loftily)— 'Oh, fair! 
Stranger— "Shoot 'em all yourself?" 
Amateur Sportsman (tartly)— "Certainly I did. Do 
you think I hire a man to do my shooting when I go 
gunning: 
V. 
Stranger— "Well, I'm glad to hear it! I'm game 
warden of this county, and them birds is out of season. 
It will cost you just five dollars each fer shootin' 'em. 
Come along with me to the 'squire's office and settle up." 
VI. 
Amateur Sportsman (making for the train to the city) 
— "Confound it all! This sporting business isn't what it 
is cracked up to be. Forty dollars, besides my expenses! 
And they confiscated the birds, too!" — Puck. 
