>EC. ft l$9ftl 
tancc, one part of the law says it shall be unlawful to 
ch fish between the 15th of April and the 15th of the 
owing June, which is supposed to be during the 
wnmg season. This is a good law, but makes the 
e too short, as the bass caught early in July are still 
of spawn. The law then goes on to say that it is 
ine to have bass in your possession, caught in any 
r excepting with a hook and line. This summer a 
ty of men rafting cross ties down the river caught 
of bass in the muddy water by running the rafts out 
t to the shores over the bass spawning beds, and 
bass m order to escape would jump on the rafts The 
1 did a nice business, as they got 10 cents per pound 
heir bass; but, becoming bold, they atone time brought 
ack containing sixty-three bass into town, dumped 
n on the sidewalk and commenced selling them to 
ry one that would purchase. They were promptly 
;sted, and it being their first offense they were let 
with a small fine and a lecture by the magistrate. 
3 fall the United States Fish Commissioner placed in 
South Branch a nice lot of young bass, and next 
on we look for a good catch of bass. Jim B. 
MNEY, W. Va., Nov, 29, 
vo Days' Hunt at North Hudson. 
r the eastern part of the town of North Hudson, some- 
g more than a hundred miles north of Albafty on the 
road that was the only highway connecting north 
south in the early days of the century, is a wild, 
ntainous region that, though overlooked by tourists 
travelers in general, is not lacking in natural beauties. 
region is, and always has been, a good breeding 
md for deer and partridge, and were it not for a 
swhat lawless spirit which characterized local senti- 
t as regards the hounding of deer, the place would 
t present an ideal point for sportsmen, 
lough the hills along the post road are ledgy and 
h-covered, there are numerous hardwood ridges to 
west clothed with giant first-growth beeches and 
les, and at a higher elevation a continuous forest of 
ce and other evergreens. 
is only half a day's climb to the summit of one of 
main ranges of the Adirondacks, culminating in the 
t mountain masses of McComb and Dix, just under 
) feet in height, and from these tnountains, as well as 
lesser ones, Niagara, Camel's Hump, Buck Moun- 
and Spotted Mountain, a dozen fine trout brooks take 
rise. 
lese brooks, in conjunction with streams from the 
unite to form the Schroon River, one of the effluents 
le Hudson. 
le nearest railroad station is Port Henry, On the Dela- 
; & Hudson R. R., which is reached by a drive of 
t twenty miles. 
lere is practically no village at North Hudson, and 
a handful of houses, scattered for the most part at 
intervals along the road. 
le last house in the little settlement before the woods . 
reached at the north is Mrs. McAuley's, which has 
been headquarters for lumbermen and adventurous 
tsmen of a not over pretentious type, 
le sportsmen have found Mrs. McAuley's entirely 
eir taste. The beds are clean and fresh and the table 
I; prices are moderate and there is plenty of hunting 
fishing territory on all sides open to the public, 
lad hunted once before in the neighborhood, and was 
1 stranger at Mrs. McAuley's when I drew up at her 
one evening early in the present October. My des- 
ion was an old lumber shanty three or four miles 
, on the slope of McComb, where I had camped the 
ious fall, and I expected to take up my quarters there 
'ollowing day. 
Aa Accommodating Deer. 
rs. McAuley received me hospitably, and treated me to 
; unusually nice venison. At breakfast she explained 
the deer had been killed by the hired man. Her 
fhter, Bird, who is, by the way, a devoted trout 
rman, was largely responsible for the venison. She 
seen the deer walking across the flat back of the 
e, and had called the hired man to get a rifle and run 
le place where they drew their water from the brook 
head it off. The hired man did as he was directed, 
he and the deer arrived at the water hole simul- 
3usly, and though the man was no hunter, and had 
r before killed a deer, the shot was too easy to be 
ed, and he bowled the animal over within a few rods 
le kitchen door. The deer proved to be a dry doe 
xellent condition, dressed 175 pounds. 
had just left the breakfast table when a young rnan 
e by the front of the house with a small deer tied 
le back end of his buckboard. 
le's going through to Keene with it," announced 
McAulej% "That same man carried through a big 
; the fore part of the season, and he sold it to St. 
ert's Inn for $40, It was the first venison they hadJ' 
Lumber Shanties Burned. 
le venison and the deer on the buckboard were good 
IS, but a little later I learned a piece of news that 
; like a dash of cold water. My horse had been put 
id I was ready to start, when one of the men about 
place volunteered the information that the camp 
e I was going had been burned, 
'he next one to it further west has been burned, too, ' 
the man. "I don't know who set 'em afire, or why it 
done, but you won't find any place to camp back in 
country unless you go to the Pepper's camp. They 
hay around that and stored it in the shanty, and 
dy's burned that one. It's on a State lot, and you've 
IS good a right to it as anybody." 
le news was depressing from more than one stand- 
:, for aside from the inference which I drew that still- 
ers were not wanted and that the burning of the 
lings had a personal application, I realized the un- 
iant fact that I should have to camp in a poorer 
ing territory, the best part of an hour's walk from 
place I hoped to make headquarters. ExceptMn 
ny weather there is not much use hunting in the 
He of the day at this time just before the running 
mences. and I had counted on being on my hunting 
nd so that I could take advantage of the hours just 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
after sunrise and before dark, when the deer are most 
apt to be on the move. 
There was nothing for it, however, but to put up with 
an inferior camp, and about 7 in the morning I made 
my start for the Pepper shanty. The morning had been 
overcast, and about the time of leaving it began to rain in 
a gentle, soothing kind of way. My spirits rose again, 
for I knew that the rain was softening the newly fallen 
leaves and that the day would be all that could be de- 
sired for hunting. • 
. The Cedar Point Road. 
The first part of my route was along an old highway 
of travel that years ago was noisy with the shouting of 
teamsters and the creak of wagons. This was the old 
Cedar Point road that ran from the iron mines in the 
center of the mountain region to Port Henry, fifty miles 
away. There are men still living who have hauled ore 
over the road, but at the present time it has reverted to 
the wilderness, and only here and there are there portions 
where the old work has been preserved, either where an 
existing road follows the course of the former one, or 
where the lumbermen have cut away the trees and brush 
which contested for possession of the cleared space and 
utilized the grade for drawing in supplies. 
Newer discoveries, such as those in Minnesota, where 
the ore can be taken with steam scoops from open cuts 
and loaded on the cars for twenty-five cents a ton, have 
forever made hauls like this unprofitable, and only the 
construction of a railroad will make it possible to mine 
this mountain iron again. 
The old road was well graded, and only crosses West 
Mill Brook once in its lower course. There were no 
rotten bridges or dangerous corduroy to pass over, and 
the only inconvenience was the frequent brush and pole 
fences which obstructed the road. 
At one piace I drove into a flock of a dozen partridge 
feeding in the road, but they were wild, and I did not 
attempt to hunt them. An hour after leaving Mrs. Mc- 
Auley's I was at the camp. I made a place in the shanty 
for the horse where I could leave him temporarily, and 
getting the supplies inside, started off for a little hunt in 
the direction of the burned shanties. 
On the way I met a man looking for dogs. Stray dogs 
are common enough in the woods all through the hunting 
season. The divide between West Mill Brook, running 
east into the Schroon River, and Niagara Brook, running 
west into the Branch, is low and unimportant, and it 
often happens that the deer take the back track and cross 
over into the Branch, and the hounds are led off and 
lost. Sometimes, too, the deer have an aggravating way 
of running up hill and carrying the dogs over to Mud 
Pond or Clear Lake, thus giving their owners no end of 
trouble to look them up and get them back. 
From the spot where I met the hunter to the site of 
the burned camps was only a short distance. The man 
had passed to one side of the clearing, but so close that if 
any deer had been in the neighborhood it seemed likely 
they would have scented him and made tracks. 
However, I had hopes of the place, for it was on a 
favorite crossing for deer from the hardwood ridges on 
either hand, and, moreover, thete was likely to be an at- 
traction for them in the ashes of the burnt Panties which 
were likely to contain saline accumulations from the bot- 
tom of old pork barrels and the like. 
Two Misses and a Hit, 
Consequently, I made my way very cautiously as I 
approached the clearing where the buildings had formerly 
stood. Nothing was to be seen in the open space, which 
was not over ten or a dozen rods across, and I stepped out 
from the cover of the woods to get a better view of -the 
place. 
At the extreme edge of the space was a weed-covered 
embankment of earth which years before had been thrown 
up to keep the cold air from circulating under the shanty. 
The moment I came into view a small deer sprang from 
behind this, and before I could raise my rifle was out of 
sight behind a pile of charred logs. The glimpse was 
short, sweet, but unsatisf3ang. 
With the picture still impressed on the retina, I be- 
came conscious that something else, living, was staring 
at me from behind the same bulwark of earth and weeds. 
The work of refocusing the eyes and readjusting the 
mental balance seemed to require a preternaturally long 
space of time, and while it was in progress I realized that 
this living entity was preparing to take flight as the other 
had done. 
As a matter of fact, it probably did not take over a 
second to realize the fact that another deer had run up 
from some hollow behind which had concealed it, and 
that it had seen and sized me up and was stiffening the 
muscles of its legs for a jump. The gun reached my 
shoulder just as the deer started. I fired twice, but both 
shots missed. I was conscious that each in turn went 
behind, but it seemed impossible to swing the riile fast 
enough to head the deer with the sights. I do not know 
how it is with other hunters, but with me I can only rise 
equal to unexpected chances like this on very rare occa- 
sions, when my reserve fund of nervous vitality is large, 
and when a certain something within me seems to move 
quicker than my dull senses, and the gun leaps to its 
place, is sighted and fired without any direct conscious 
agency. 
Naturally I was disgusted with myself for losing 
chances at two deer. I did not blame myself so much for 
missing the moving deer as for not seeing the game first 
before it was alarmed by my presence. If I had gone a 
little more slowly and waited at the edge of the clearing 
I would either have seen the deer or heard them in course 
of time, but I had been too precipitous, and so lost my 
opportunity. 
It is hard to realize always how low a deer stands, and 
how easily he may be hidden even in open ground by in- 
equalities in the surface or even by tall grass. Whenever 
possible it is a good plan to get on an elevation and care- 
fully study every foot of the ground before crossing open 
places in the woods. 
While moralizing on my shortcomings as a hunter, I 
followed up the direction taken by the deer, and ascer- 
tained by the patches of torn moss and turned up leaves 
where they touched the ground in their 15-foot jumps, 
that one had crossed the swamp to the south, while the 
Other had gone to the northeast, up an old road. I 
463 
devoted myself to this latter deer, and at the end of 
half an hour I heard him moving, and caught a glimpse 
of his gray side a long way off through the woods. The 
deer appeared to be working back in my direction, intend- 
ing, possibly, to rejoin its mate, and I remained perfectly 
still, awaiting developments. There was no wind, and 
the water-soaked boughs of the trees drooped motionless. 
The red squirrels and bluej ays were at work, however, 
gathering in the beech nut harvest, and it was hard to tell 
which sounds were to be attributed to these smaller ani- 
mals and which to the deer. 
From the alarum notes of the jays along a little brook 
where there was a thick undergrowth of small balsams 
and hemlocks, I imagined they had sighted the deer 
.sneaking by in that direction, and since, if he were com- 
ing toward me at all, the only cover was along the brook, 
I moved over a couple of rods to intercept him. From 
my new point of view I could see eight or ten rods along 
an old log road that crossed the brook, and felt sure if 
the deer was really coming toward me he would not escape 
unobserved. I watched quarter of an hour without any 
result, and then took out my lunch and began eating it. 
All the time I thought I could hear the deer moving 
around in the brush, but I could see nothing, and could 
only imagine that he was feeding slowly along. 
Just as I finished my second slice of bread, as if by 
• magic the deer's back appeared above a rank growth o'f 
swamp grass in the middle of the road, where I could have 
hit him with an empty cartridge shell. I whistled, and as 
he threw up his head I caught the sights on his shoulder, 
and a ball went through him quartering, touching the 
heart in its course. 
The deer made half a dozen convulsive leaps, its tail 
raising and falling each time it jumped, and then fell, 
striking with its shoulder a rock weighing several hundred 
pounds, and knocking it out of place. The deer itself lay 
10 feet beyond the rock, carried onward by the force of 
its last jurnp. It was a small buck, well favored and in 
good condition for eating. 
Packing a Deer to Camp. 
After dressing the deer and hanging him up in a nearby 
tree I continued my hunt along the side of the hardwood 
ridge, I saw no other game, however, and a little before 
5 was back again at the spot where the buck was hung up 
ready to pack him in to camp. Letting the deer down to 
the ground, I enlarged the cuts at the gambrel joints and 
pushed the ends of the forelegs through the outer sides 
and pinned them with wooden skewers, and getting the 
deer orr "piggy back" started for camp, 
I had three miles to walk to camp, which I reached 
after several rests on the way to restore the circulation 
to my arms, half an hour after dark, 
1 stayed one more day at the Pepper shanty, exploring 
the ridges of Spotted Mountain and Buck Mountain. 
In this section of the woods there is a wonderful beech 
nut crop, and chipmunks, squirrels, jays, foxes, "saple" 
bear and deer are all busily at work, making the most of 
their harvest. Strangely enough, I saw very few partridge 
in the ridges, though they are abundant in the second 
growth at a lower elevation. 
Bear signs were very numerous, and at the time of the 
first snows in November there should be a chance for 
still-hunting Bruin. 
Two days ended my hunt in this section, and the morn- 
ing of the third I moved on to a still rougher mountain 
country under the slides of old Dix at the headwaters of 
one of the branches of the Boquet River, which is on the 
St. Lawrence watershed. 
At Mrs. McAaIey*s Again. 
Mrs. McAuley was lamenting the price of potatoes and 
the unseasonable frosts that had killed her crops for 
the past two years. • 
"This year it was in August, and last year in July. 
You never can tell when one of these frosts is coming, 
and when they do come, they make a clear sweep and 
kill the buckwheat and potatoes right down to the ground. 
It's pretty hard on us poor farmers, and .now that we 
have no hay the price of cattle has gone down. ,The 
papers say that beef has gone up in the city, but the buyers 
know that we haven't hay to winter our stock, and -they 
pay us what they please." 
"Never mind, Mrs. McAuley," I replied. "Anybody 
who's got a gold mine on their farm oughtn't to complain 
of hard times." 
"Paper money'd suit me better," sniffed the lady rather 
contemptuously. "I don't take much stock in these gold 
mines that can't be seen with the naked eye, and that it 
takes a professor to explain. But it is real discouraging 
to have to buy potatoes." 
It is popularly supposed that gold exists in consider- 
able quantities in the sand which composes a large part 
of Mrs. McAuley's farm, and weight is given to these 
reports, by the fact that a man who is said to be a prac- 
ticed prospector and mine owner has bought the place 
adjoining on the east and talks of purchasing the one 
on the south as well. This man spent several months 
prospecting in the neighborhood during the summer, and 
apparently found promising indications of some mineral, 
but native report would indicate that it was iron or cop- 
per, rather than gold, though, as a matter of fact, there 
is little doubt that gold does exist in small quantities 
all through this section. 
Cheap Mountain Homes. 
In this connection prices paid for property along the 
post road may be of interest. For a man who wants a 
cheap summer home the locality is ideal. The George 
Shaw place, which is said to have been purchased by the 
mining man, was bought, according to my informant, for 
^500 cash down and $300 on mortgage. It consists of 300 
acres of meadow and mountain land, and includes a 
beautiful wooded hill. On the east it is bounded by the 
river which is an opalescent trout stream, and on the 
south by the road. There are four buildings on the 
place, including a roomy two-story dwelling in a fair 
state of repair. 
The little place adjoining the McAuleys' on the south 
was for sale for $150. I do not know the quantity of 
land or the condition of the house, but my impression is 
that the latter was a dilapidated shanty that would hardly 
pay for repairs. 
A mile and a half beyond Mrs. McAule/s is the oI4 
