jAlf. t icJHn 1 
Forest and stream. 
s 
Sam's Boy.-=VL 
Sammy wandered about disconsolately until a sight of 
the Hill homestead gave him an inspiration. Gran'iher 
Hill had said that they would go hunting some day, and 
why was not this the appointed time ? k was true, he 
had not grown much since then, but one could not wait 
forever, and pigeons would wait for no one. So, deeming 
it wiser to go first and ask perinission afterward, he 
trudged away. _ , 
As he arrived, panting, in the presence oi the veie:.-tn, 
whom he fortunatelj- found in the mood of wanting some- 
thing to break the monotony of idleness, with no circum- 
locution, he broke forth: 
■'Say, Gran'ther nni, don't you wanter go huiiiin', 
'cause the's a whole lot o' pigeons tu a shad tree up in the 
wo^ds, an' you can shoot 'em." 
The old man glowered auwn upon him so grimly, his 
toothless jaw agape with wonder, that Samm}' almost 
repented his choice of a comrade, 
"You come up here a-puppus cu git me tu go a-hiuuin' 
with ye? Wal, wal, yon be the beater for a young m\. 
Why, J guess I'll hafter, if I can find anything tu fcv*d 
the ol' gun with. Le' me go an' see!" 
He soon reappeared with the ancient weapon; and began 
loading, while Sammy curiously watched the mysterior.s 
process, the measure of black grains potired down the 
long barrel, the wadding of tow that followed, then the 
handful of pellets rattling after, blue as frost grapes with 
long keeping, then another wad of tow. and the final 
priming, and then the wonder of it all, that this dead inert 
filling of an iron tiibe was to bring about the killing of 
pigeons. But it must be that one so old as Gran'ther Hill 
knew that it was all right, and so in the fulness of faith 
Sammy grasped the patriarch's staff, two feet below the 
wrinkled hand, and set forth to guide him to the shad 
tree. 
They held across the pasture and drew near the edge of 
the woods, until they saw the slender Amelanchier, its 
branches bent with the weight of the crowding pigeons, 
jostling each other and clapping their wings to maintain 
foothold. The old man left his little comrade crouching 
beside a stump, while he went forward, bending low in 
range of a great beech. Gaining this he straightened him- 
self and peered cautiotisly out from behind it. Then 
Samm.y saw the long barrel raised and leveled, heard the 
click of the flint, saw the flash and smoke, puff of priming, 
the belch of fire and smoke from the muzzle, an 
upward flash of resplendent wings, a downright fall of 
several feathered forms, amid the echoing roar of the 
gun and the simultaneous roar of a hundred pairs of 
wings clapping all at once in startled flight, with cripples 
dribbling out of the flock as it whirled away into the 
depths of the woods. 
Sammy ran forward to the scene of slaughter, to which 
Gran'ther Hill hobbled with all speed and began pickmg 
up the birds, giving the cripples a merciful quietus with 
a punch of the thumb in the skull. 
"Thirteen on 'em, the' be !" he declared, upon complet- 
ing the count. "Wal, bub, that hain't so bad for two ol' 
fellers 'at run away tu go a-huntin' ! An' what a lot o' 
sarvice baries ! The'U be pigeons here 'most any day for 
a spell ; hens in the mornin', cocks in the arternoon." 
Then he plucked out four of the long tail featliers, 
and tying two of the plume ends together he strung the 
birds through the soft middle of the nether bill in two 
bunches. The larger he sltmg upon the barrel of the 
gun, the smaller he consigned to Sammy's care, who 
slung it on a stick over his shoulder, and so the two 
trudged homeward, the one as proud as the other, while 
the elder told of the marvelous flights of pigeons in olden 
times, when the sky was darkened by the endless hordes. 
"Why. where on this livin' airth did ye git them " 
pigeons?" cried Uncle Lisha, adjusting his spectacles to 
verify his first sight of the proud little hunter's trophy. 
"Me an' Gran'ther shot 'em with a gun," Sanmiy re- 
sponded, and marched into the kitchen, where he '.vas. 
received with exclamations of wonder and admiration by 
his mother and Aunt Jerusha; and even Drive got up 
from his place to sniff the birds, though he evidently 
thought them hardly worth the fuss that was being made 
over them: and the baby was given a tail feather lo 
play with, 
"Naow, Til put right on my apron an' pick 'em, an' then 
won't we hev us a pigeon pie aouteii the pigeons aour 
little hunter man got!" said Aunt Jerusha. She sang in a 
cracked voice as she stepped across the kitchen in her 
: brisk, jerky, rheumatic way: 
" When I can shoot my rifle clear 
Tu pigeons in the skies, 
I'll bid farewell to beef an' beer, 
An' live on pigeon pies " 
She tied the apron and began searching for the pocket 
that held her snuff box, bending her head awry to look for 
the obscure slit in her skirt. Then, just as her hand was 
on the comforting box, her spectacles dropped off. and 
snatching at them, she lost hold of the box, which 
tumbled to the floor, the box running one way, and 
.scattering a brown trail ; the cover, another way; and the 
vanilla bean bounding away on a course of its own. 
Sammj' viewed the catastrophe a moment in speechless 
consternation, while Drive with a charge of snull in 
one eye, uttered an agonized howl as he clawed at the 
suffering orb with one hind foot, and the baby set up a 
symoathetic yell. 
"Oh, Uncle Lisher !" cried the hoy, rushing in to his 
steadfast friend, "Aunt 'Rushy tried tu siag, an' sh.e's 
comin' all tu pieces ! Come an' stop her. quick !" 
"You don't say!" said the shoemaker, receiving the 
alarming tidings with philosophical calmness, and listen- 
ing a moment to the confusion of sounds. • "Wal, I guess 
well hafter git the darkter. 'cause like 's not we wouldn't 
. git her together right. If we got a laig on where a' arm 
orter go 't would spile her gait, an' if we got her nose on 
t'^p back side of her head, she couldn't never take no innff. 
an' wouldn't never be hanpy ag'in. I guess we won't on- 
dertake that job, but I'll tell ye what. I got them 'ere 
shoe=; done, an' if you'll go along wi' me, an' not tell 
nob'dy aouten this fam'ly. I'll show j-e suthin' pooty !" 
Uncle Lisha gave a helning finger to his little crony, as 
they set forth across the fields as haooy in present freedom 
from care as the bobolinks that blithely sang above tlieir 
bro\\Ti mates' nesting in the tangled clover tufts. 
"Hold on, Unc' Lisher!" Sammy cried, letting go and 
pouncing upon something in the grass. "There's a 
Oh, pshaAv ! 'Tain't nothin' but a red leaf 1" ending his 
triumphant shout in a tone of disappointment 'T 
thought it was a ripe strawberrj^" 
"No, it's tew airly for 'em yet," said Uncle Lisha. 
"But in 'baout a fortni't there'll be gobs on 'em, an' then 
says I, we'll all come up here an' get sights. My, what a 
mess o' blows ! The graound's jest white. Naow le's 
keep jes' as still as tew mice," he said, dropping his 
voice as they began the ascent of a knoll near the edge of 
the woods, stooping as they neared the summit until he 
was on all fours and peering cautiously over the top of the 
knoll. 
Then after a moment of watching and wondering, 
Sammy, Ij'ing prone a little behind, was beckoned to a 
place beside him, and gaining it, saw five fluffy little yel- 
low animals with pricked black ears and black stockings 
on their slender legs. They were playing no end of can- 
ning pranks near the entrance of a burrow, where a 
mound of yellow earth was thrown out, hard trodden, and 
littered with bones and feathers. 
"Oh, what cunnin' little doggies !" Sammy whispered 
in a state of excitement that threatened to become ^oo 
loud in expression. "Whose be they, Lhic' Lisher? Saj, 
can't I liave one?" 
"S-s-s-h-h ! Them's foxes, Ta' kecr you don't skcer 
'em." the old man cautioned, and the tAvo spies lay quite 
still watching the cubs now tumbling over each other, now 
engaged in mimic battle, now all but one pretending to 
fall asleep, while he began burj-ing the leg of a lamb m 
the loose earth, but desisted when he saw that the eyes 
of all his mates were upon him. .Then unearthed the half- 
buried treasure and sought a new hiding place. Presently 
at some slight sound beyOnd them, all suddenly became 
alert in that direction, and the mother appeared, her 
mouth fringed with field mice, for which there was at 
once a scramble, and yet a fair distribution of them. The 
cares of housekeeping and maternity had not fallen more 
lightly on IMadame Vixen than they do on many human 
mothers ; her once sleek and bright tawnj' fur was faded 
to a pale yellow, and Avas rough and ragged, and there 
was the weariness of constant anxietj^ on her shrewd face 
as she stretched herself at length on the sward, and in- 
terestedly watched her children make way with the tid- 
bits she had brought them. 
Their lunch ended, the young rascals made exceedingly 
free with her, romping about and over her, and receiA'ing 
no chastisement for their rtideness, but an occasional pre- 
tended bite or a light cuff of a forepaw. When the un- 
seen and unsuspected audience had watched the perform- 
ance until the old man's stiff' joints and the child's rest- 
less body were tired of keeping still. Uncle Lisha pursed 
his lips and imitated the squeak of a mouse, whereat the 
mother pricked her ears and started up, and her cliildren 
became as alert as she. The sound was repeated, and she 
began a slow advance, twisting her head comically as she 
listened and tried to locate the sound. 
So she kept drawing nearer, until she was looking 
straight into Uncle Lisha's eyes, and a suspicion dawned 
upon her that here was something not quite right. The 
hair rose on her neck and back, her jaws opened to utter 
a gasping bark, she sprang backward, the cubs scampered 
into the nearest opening of the burrow, jostling each 
other for first place, and disappearing in a twinkling, when 
the mother turned tail and scudded away to a safe dis- 
tance beyond, where she gave full vent to her displeasure 
in continuous, gasping barks. 
LTncle Lisha led Sammy over to the bttrrow and showed 
him the odd assemblage of kitchen middens ; the shanks 
of a lamb, the foot of a hare, the wings of chickens, ducks 
and a partridge, and most conspicuous of all the broad, 
barred pinion of a turkey. 
"I s'pect them' ere b'longed tu Joel Bartlett's ol' gobbler, 
an' I hearn haow 'at Joel has faound aout this 'ere fox 
den, an' '11 be up here tu night a-diggin' on 'em aout. 
That'd spile a lot o' fun for yer daddy next fall, an' I'm 
jest a-goin' tu give this 'ere ol' lady a hint tu move." 
With that he began filling his pipe, but taking no pains 
not to scatter tobacco, and lighting it with an unneces- 
sary number of matches, the stumps of which were 
dropped about the several entrances, where he also spat 
profusely. 
"There." he said, looking Avith satisfaction on the gen- 
eral untidiness. "I'll warrant ye she'll move her fam'ly 
up inter some laedge in the woods, an' the skunks can hev 
these 'ere lodgin's ater tu-day. I cal'late she does more 
good a-ketchin' mice 'an what hurt she does ketchin' tur- 
keys, an' as fer lambs, if folks'll rub some sulphur ontu 
'em, the foxes won't tetch 'em, an' 'twould be tew bad ttt 
hev sech fun as they'll make right handy by for yer daddy, 
an' sech a good time as they're a-hevin' on. all spilte jest 
for nothin'. as you might say. An' naow, I" da' say, she 
won't so much as thank you an' me for a-doin' of her a 
good turn, but '11 keep a-scoldin' on us for stinkin' up her 
haouse wi' terbacker, along arter she's got set up in her 
new quarters, but we can stan' it, an' we had a good time 
watchin' on her. My ! haow pleasant it looks in the woods, 
an' haow neat the grape blows smells ! It 'most makes me 
\\'ish 'at I was a ol' fox. a-livin' free in the woods an" 
fields, 'thaout nob'dy's boots an' shoes tu bother with, 
nor nob'dy tu take thought on. But then, bymebye. they'll 
hafter turn, aout an' shift for themselves, a-huntin' mice 
by the squeakin' on 'cm. an' stealin' chickens an' turkeys 
an^ lambs, an' a-sneakin' raound the woods arter pa'tridges 
an' rabbits, an' lookin' aout fer traps 'at's sot, an' larnin' 
runways, an' gittin' chased by haoun' dogs, an' gittin 
shot, an' their own mother not carin' no more'n if 'twas 
any other fox. So I guess on the hul, I'd rather he Uncle 
Lisher a-shoolin' raoun' the Avoods an' lots, wi' a leetle 
boy, a-lookin' at Avhat the good Lord hes made for us, 
than'kful tu be right amongst it all. an' tu hev som'b'dy 
tu hum a-waitin' for us. an' a-keerin' for us. Hitv tity, jn* 
look at this !" 
They were skirting tlie open edge of the woods. Avhere 
in the mottled shade of new leafage a profusion of forest 
annuals Avere .=;nreading their tender leaves above the mat 
of last year's drab and rus'^et. Avild ginger, sarsapaiilla. 
blond-root, moose flower, liverwort and fern, and the 
tender sprouts of seedling trees, when there was an out- 
burst of chicking and a furious flutter of gray feathers at 
their verv feet, and a spattering abroad of a number of 
uncountable yellow balls that vanished as soon as seen, 
when the bewitched rumple of gray feathers went tumbling 
and fluttering along the ground uith Sammy in hot piir- 
smt, Uncle Lisha stood still a m-oment, then Avith his 
hat in both hands, pounced doAvn upon a bunch of broad- 
leafed wild ginger, and groping beneath it, presently drew 
forth the prettiest of downy chicks. 
bammy was recalled from his fruitless chase to see and 
admire it in the cage of Uncle Lisha's hollowed hands. 
Then, in spite of entreaties and protests, it Avas carefully 
set doAvn, and vanished as if the earth had absorbed it. 
^ "Oh, Uncle Lisher! you don't let me hev nothin'!" 
Sammy cried, almost at the. point of tears. "Whose leetle 
hen is it, an' why couldn't I hcA^ jest one chicken, nor 
one leetle doggy?" 
"Why, sonn3', they'd only run away or die, an' not du 
nob'dy no good, jes' the same as if I gin you to the ol' 
fox or the ol' pa'tridge. An' naow I cal'late we'A'e seen 
'baout 'nough for one day. an' Ave'll go hum an' see if 
that 'ere pigeon pie hain't 'baout ready. Here we go, Avi' 
nothin' tU show, but lots tu remember." 
Rowland E. Robinson, 
[to bk contintjed next week.] 
With the Seminoles, 
L^EER hunting with the Serainoles! What a nameless 
charm invests the subject: the thrill of enthusiasm awa- 
kened by the contemplation of such a hunt is only in- 
creased in the presence of the reality — and the tale is here 
set do'.vn. With camp paraphernalia, the party start for 
the land of the Seminoles, traveling by boat and water 
the wilderness Avhere a generation ago the red men suc- 
cessfully defied Uncle Sam; and secure in their fastnesses 
their descendants yet Ha'c happy, prosperous and con- 
tented. Passing over this land of romance, over paths 
untrod by any save the light-footed aborigines or an 
occasional trapper, the delights of nature, tmtrammeled 
and free, Avere enjoy^ed. Wood ducks Avere plentiful; the 
spinner as it trailed behind the boat kept tip a constant 
swish, swish, as the hungry trout took the troll, squir- 
rels clucked and chattered from behind the trunks of the 
trees, while an occasional alligator, disturbed in his 
sliunber, blinked with his soft ey^es from the sunny baiiks 
of the stream. 
At last the Indian village was reached, and these tm- 
tutored Seminoles, A\nth that inborn courtesy that is ever 
Avith them in the presence of a friend, received the 
hunters with royal grace. In addition to the tent, the 
chiefs built a palmetto AvigAvam for the party, assi.sled in 
unpacking and in a quiet and unobtrusive manner pre- 
sented the hungry white men Avith a fine saddle of venison. 
As this was the annual hunt, which always meant presents 
for the _ Indians, expectant faces from little toddling 
picaninnies. as well as from the older members of the 
camp, reminded that it was time to distribute tobacco, 
pipes, red handkerchiefs, trinkets for the squaws, candy 
and nuts for the little ones. Happiness hovered all around 
that Everglade home. A tonic that always belongs to 
camp life. was taking effect on the Avhite men. Around 
the gloomy camp-fire they enjoyed their pipes with their 
red_ brothers, and discussed in broken Seminole the ex- 
periences of the past year — ^the chiefs eager for news of the 
outside world, of the Avar, and the big soldiers. The white 
men as intent on game hunting, etc., 'till the solemn shades 
of night overpowered and the tired hunters "got betAveen 
their blankets. 
The young braves were bubbling over with excitement 
over this hunt, for it meant plenty of Avhite man's proAn- 
sions and jolly good fun; so with the coming of the 
dawn, accordmg to arrangement made the night before. 
tA\'o of the energetic young Indians made their appearance 
at the tent door for the purpose of accompanying the en- 
thusiastic tenderfoot of the party on a tAvo days' hunt for 
deer, the older members of the party having decided 
to rest in camp and prepare for the "big hunt," which 
necessarily Avould be made m.any miles from the Indiain 
village. The young braves claimed to know of the where- 
abouts of a small bunch of deer, Avhich the older members 
took with a "grain of allowance." The tenderfoot had 
two days' provisions, cooking utensils and blanket ready, 
but when the tAvo red hunters appeared, carrying nothiiig 
but their guns, and explained that for such a short hunt 
— only two days — a little salt would be all that was needed, 
the Avhite hunter said to himself, "What a Seminole can 
do, I can do," and with the idea that playing Indian would 
revive boyhood days, he started off, am'id the AA'arning of 
friends, with, as light an equipage as the Indians, trusting 
to the guns alone. After many miles of tramping across 
the sand hills, with a tropical sun beaming upon them, a 
stopping place was selected in a small thicket on the shore 
of a fresh-Avater lake. It was now considerably past the 
dinner hour, for Avhich no provision had been made other 
than a slice of bread a wise old hunter had slipped into 
the pocket of the adventurous white man. He diA-ided 
Avith the two Indians, but still felt the pangs of hunger, 
wa_s tired and worn out, and on questioning his Spartan 
guides if they too were not hungry, they answered. 
"Muncha,"_no: "to-night echo hum-bux-chay," deer eat 
plenty. This was reassuring to the white man. but did not 
fill the present A^oid. 
The plans for the hunt were now given in Indian-like 
terms by Billy Bowlegs- With gestures he said, "Tommv 
Doctor hunt this Avay, Little Willsie* this side, me so 
across pratira," thus coA-ering the territory for the chase 
Avith the understanding that all meet in camp when "sun 
go down." An hour's tramp convinced the tenderfoot that 
the deer were not in his range, and he returned to the 
starting place — Avhich was only a camp in" name— to rest 
his weary liinbs and soliloquize on hunting deer — a la 
Seminole. His rambling thoughts were now disturbed 
by large drops of rain, accompanied by a rumbling of 
thunder in the east. Soon the rain simplv poured, com- 
pletely drenching the tenderfoot and making the ground 
soggy and uncomfortable. Shortly after the storm Billy 
Bowlegs returned empty handed. Affairs noAv began to 
take on a somber look, Avith prospect of nothing but salt 
. for supoer — Billy reporting no sign of any game what- 
ever. Niglit Avas now fast approaching, and Billy began 
to pull tAvigs and branches from the trees for a bed for 
the night. The charging of the do.gs announced the ap- 
proach of some one. and to the delight of the disheartened 
white man. Tommy Doctor stalked from the surromiding 
sliadOAVs into the rays- of the camp-fir ~ -nd dropped at 
• White friend. 
