March 17, igoo.] 
i^OREST AND STREAM. 
207 
"After sunset I set my traps, of which I said to myself, 
'If I can't get beaver in the morning, I will never trap 
no more, so iong as I shall live.' As it happened, by 
chance I got three beaver in my traps, and tliat was a 
blessing. It was the first good meal I had for many 
a day. _ , 
"I still hung on for a few daj^s longer. I only got one 
weaver afterwards, and then I began to live very bad 
igain. A short time afterward I was hired to go fishing. 
Then I thought as though I was getting in Paradise- 
plenty to eat and- sqme wages ; good appetite, too— oh, 
yes ! 
"Then I went and hunted after the summer fishing sea- 
ion was over, and got nothing again, and after spending 
ill my summer's wages I was obliged to go to work 
igain. That was in '73." ..r u- . 
It is a simple narrative, but George Washington won 
10 greater moral victory when he told of his fault and 
aced the consequences than this Indian from a stock 
vhere success in the chase is esteemed as second only to 
lUCcess in war. 
F^alheifB on the Trail. 
Harvey Alford, of the Adirondack contingent, when 
leventeen years of age, went back into the wild section 
)f country near Mount Seward and spent a winter trap- 
)ing with one companion. Their range ran from Am- 
)ersand Pond to Cold River and took in Santantoui 
Vlountain. The trail was a circle fifty miles in length, 
ind it required three days to look over their three 
fliimdred traps. .,, , 
A branch trail left the main hne at the stiUwatcrs on 
-.old River, and ran down six miles, to a little lake called 
:rout Pond, on the west side of Mount Seward. 
One of the trapper's camps was situated at the still- 
/aters. Alford came to this camp Nov. 20. about noon, 
nd left his rifle there, as he had a heavy load of bait to 
arry along the line. With his hatchet m his belt, he 
et off up the trail, intending to make the round trip of 
welve miles and return to the camp for the night. 
It had been a beechnut year, and bears' tracks were 
requently met with. A light snow had fallen, and in this 
Uford noticed the trail of a large animal crossing his 
ath from time to time. He paid little attention to it, 
linking the tracks were those of a bear. 
Coming to the end of the line, he turned and re- 
raced his steps. His own footprints were plainly out- 
ined in the snow, and presently to his surprise he saw 
n animal's track directly on top, half obliterating the 
aoccasin mark. Whatever the strange creature was it 
iras getting a little too close for comfort, and Alford at 
■nee stopped and examined the track. As a result of his 
.bservation, he decided that three panthers— an old one 
nd two cubs— were following on his trail. 
Alford left the trapping trail, following on the tracks 
,{ the panthers, and saw where the animals had taken 
Jarra at his approach and gone off on the jump. He re- 
umed his wav to camp, and presently feeling in his bones 
hat he was s'till being pursued, he stopped and retraced 
is steps, and soon came to fresh panther tracks superim- 
losed above his ov,ai. 
Three-quarters of a mile from carfip Tie tried agaitl, and 
ound that the panthers were still following. He hurried 
in, and got his rifle and returned to get a shot, but the 
lanthers had apparently scented danger, and had left the 
rail at the last place where he turned back, and gone 
ff Ijetween Ragged Mountain and Seward. 
Alford followed the trail eight miles, and spent the 
light on the side of Seward, but he got no shot at the 
■•reat cats, and as the snow had pretty well disappeared 
le was reluctantlv obliged to give up the chase. 
At one time he was close to the panthers in some open 
lardwood timber, and they actually traveled nearly 
I round his position, within rifle shot, but so stealthy 
vere their movements that he did not catch a glimpse 
)f them or hear a stick crack. The panthers made no 
ound while on his trail, and he thinks they were m- 
uenced more by curiosity than a desire for fresh meat. 
George Mitigwab Talks ol Bears. 
George Mitigwab once killed an old she bear with 
hrec cubs in the den. The time was the middle of 
ylarch. He was traveling his trapping trail on snow- 
hoes, and heard his dog off at one side barking. He 
bought he had treed some grouse, but when he ap- 
reached the place he saw that the dog had his head 
bwered and was barking at something under the ground, 
.nd he at once surmised that the animal had discovered 
bear's den. 
The snow was at that time about 2 feet in depth, and 
ay evenly over a. little mound, under which the bear 
lad burrowed out a hole and made a nest of cedar bark 
.nd moss very much like an overgrown field mouse's 
lest. On top was a breathing hole several inches in 
iameter. 
Mitigwab, finding that the dog's efforts to bring out 
he bear were unavailing, cut a pole and began probing 
he mound. He located the bear five or six feet from the 
)lace where the entrance had originally been made, back 
n under some roots. Repeated proddings finally made 
ler show herself, and a shot from his rifle ended her 
rareer. . - ' •■ 
At no time did the bear growl or make any sound,, and 
Mitigwab says she seemed only half awake. 
It was evident that the bear was suckling cubs, so the 
Indian enlarged the opening to the den, and crawled in 
ind found those tiny cubs. MhigAvab had no use for 
he cubs, and though sorry for them he left them there in 
he den, dragging the bear home on his hand sled. The 
)ear was fat and in good condition, despite the fact that 
he had given birth to cubs and spent three months and 
half without eating, and Mitigwab tried out three gal- 
ons of oil from her carcass. 
Around Matawa, Mitigwab says, bears begin hibernat- 
ng ordinary years about the middle of November, and 
email! in the den till the time the snow goes off, which 
s apt to be some time about the middle of April. When 
)eechnuts and hazelnuts are plentiful they remain out often 
:ill December, and at times, when the spring is late 
hey stay in the den until May. At times during the 
vin'ter they come out. but the appearance depends more 
>n the den than the hear, and is often due to the fact of 
the bear being flooded out. 
Mitigw^ab mentioned an instance where tracks hi the 
snow showed a bear to have come out and secured 
evergreen boughs to place under its body and keep it 
from the wet after a winter thaw. 
Mitigwab says the female bear gives birth to young 
onl}^ once in two years. In the summer mating season 
one female is frequently folloAved by three or more male 
bears, and at such times the bears squawl like cats. 
Mitigwab once came face to face with an old bear 
and two cubs in a wagon road when he was unarmed. 
He saw the cubs first, but a second later the old bear 
appeared on the scene, advancing to within 25 yards. 
This is the way Mitigwab tells of the incident: 
"So she stood up on her hind legs and showed fight. 
So I didn't go ahead, I stood right where I was, and she 
stood where she was, cracking her teeth for about 
three of four minutes, till she heard the little ones get 
away far enough for safety. Then she walked off slowiv 
to one side. I have never seen her since, and I didn't 
look for her cither." 
Waboosa added: "That ends the chapter." 
The Indian of to-day knows English, even if you find 
him within the arctic circle. 
Some of Uncle Marl's Yarns. 
Walter Martin, who is a nephew of Charlie Martin, the 
man who used to swop stories of questionable veracity 
with Uncle Mart Moody, is at the Garden, and gave the 
gutsts at one of the Adirondack camps a good laugh by 
recalling some of the yarns. He told of the time that 
Mart fought a ferocious catamount for seven days with- 
out food or raiment on the side of Arab Mountain, end- 
ing the contest bj' driving his fist through the cata- 
mount up to the elbow into a birch tree beyond. 
Charlie Martin heard Moody's cries for help and came 
over and chopped him out. 
E. J. Chase, of Newcomb, so Walter Martin says, 
mounted and exhibited the panther, and interest is gained 
when it is known that Mr. Chase is the same man who 
did .such artistic work setting up the sea serpent recently. 
Uncle Mart had more than one hairbreadth escape 
from panthers. Once, when he had only a load of 
powder in his old muzzleloading gun, he was pursued 
by one of these beasts, and would never have survived 
to tell the story had it not been for the fortuitous cir- 
custance that the sweat which rolled in great beads 
from his forehead froze as it fell. Collecting a handful 
of the balls. Mart dropped them down the barrel of his 
gun, and turning, fired them into the panther at short 
range. The heat of the ignited powder melted the mis- 
siles, but as the stream left the muzzle of the gun the 
frosty air converted it into an icicle, and it shot true to 
its mark, and killed the panther, which. Uncle Mart 
affirms, died of w^ater on the brain. 
How the Pickerel Reached the Saranacs. 
The pickerel got into the upper Rjjquette River from 
Colden, by way of Long Lake. W. J. Slater says they 
ran up Stony Creek Brook to the pond, and were taken 
across the carry to the upper Saranac Lake by old man 
John Dukett and Charlie Roberts. The latter, when 
dying, confessed to his share in the transaction, saying 
it was the meanest thing he ever did in his life. The 
pickerel are gradually running out of the Saranacs and 
down the river, and the lakes will soon have fine bass 
fishing in addition to the lakers. 
Mr. Slater says that Daniel S. Hough killed the last 
moose in the Adirondacks at Mud Lake in 1866, or near 
that date. 
Ross Hayes* Bear Stoiy. 
Ross Hayes, from Paul Smith's, has to go before a 
justice of the peace and have an affidavit made out when- 
ever he tells a stor}^ — that is, provided the story is in- 
tended for the edification of his fellow guides. City men 
are content to listen to Ross without this introduction. 
The following story, however, is an exception to the 
rule. It was told in an unguarded moment, and is not 
the usual artistic creation ^vhich is expected of Mr. 
Hayes: 
"Eight years ago," says Hayes, "I went over to Moose 
Pond, on the Whiteface Range, opposite Bloomingdale. 
in company with a friend, on a fishing trip. I had 
no luck then, and started across to Grass Lake, two 
miles away. I had a dog with me, and presently I heard 
him barking, and was worried at first, thinking he had 
gotten after deer. It was in winter, and out of season 
for deer. 
"J went over toward the dog, and soon found it 
couldn't be a deer he was after, as he was barking at 
one spot, and not running. Then I concluded he had a 
quill pig." J. B . BuRNHAM. 
My Friends. 
Two friends have I, 
Two loyal, steadfast friends: 
And as I watch the wliirling snow 
And see the spruces laden full with white, 
I think of all the days we spent together. 
.Days when the woods were green. . 
And filled with the perfumed breath of spring, 
And the turf was soft and warm beneath our feet. 
Days when the little river, a stream of Lethe, 
With sweet wild roses blooming on its banks 
And silven lilies floating on" its tide, - ■ ' 
Bore our canoes upon its bosom. 
We felt the joy of summer and of friendsTlip 
And loved the woods and the silence of the fields. 
When autumn winds shook down the leaves 
And frost opened the storehouse of the hickories, 
Our eager feet still sought the forest path. 
When wliite-robed winter locked the stream with ice, 
- 'And all the land lay sleeping 'neath the snow, 
We loved the bare brown woodland none the less. 
With the web racquettes or the long skis 
Brought from Norwegian mountains. 
The snow-beleaguered woods were conquered. 
And so we wandered Ihrotigh the year, 
Finding companionship with birds and flowers, 
And with each other. But changes came, 
And now a thousand miles away, 
I thing of them, and know that they, 
Upon the trail, still think of ra?. W, A. BROOKS. 
A Den of Young Bears. 
C.'^LAis, Me., Feb, 24. — Editor Forest and Stream: On 
Jan. 13 a man who looks after my timber land — Mr. C. F. 
Keef — in going through a rough piece of woods heard a 
squeaking noise and found it was made by young bears 
in a bears' den. He shot the old bear and found she had 
three cubs — queer little things. They weighed about 12 
ounces each; length from end of nose to the end of hind 
toe, 12 inches — not much larger than a full-grown red 
squirrel. They lived about a week after the old one was 
killed. From the umbilicus being entirely healed I should 
judge them about two weeks old. I send you their photo- 
graphs. 
Our snows rarely fall to any depth before the last of 
November, and our bears usually seek their dens for hi- 
bernation about that time. The she bear usually goes to 
her den very fat, but the males, often wasted by the Sep- 
tember rut, sometimes do not den until late. The In- 
dians call them wandering bears, and sometimes see their 
tracks in mid-winter; and I have heard of one being 
killed the first of March. 
Those little bears after birth can receive but very little 
food, and must pass the first winter's life in semi-torpor, 
growing but little until the parent emerges in the spring. 
In our bear hibernation destroys all maternal instinct, 
for if driven from her den the mother leaves her young 
to freeze and does not return, but finds a new den. In 
its parturition, our bear shows some affinity to the opos- 
sum, our sole North American marsupial, but without the 
pouch; and from these facts, as well as its hibernation, 
and its capacity of sustaining life either as a vegetarian 
or a carnivore, may be justly considered in its polar or 
fishing variety one of the first mammals that occupied this 
continent when it appeared after its glacial submergence. 
The polar variety, but few shades above the walrus, might 
easily have sustained life for the few short summer months 
on fish and seals ere yet peaks or swampy terraces had 
become visible above the ice. In this struggle of fish, 
veeetable and flesh life, his prolonged torpidity, at first, 
perhaps, much more prolonged in Arctic regions, and 
destined, as he advanced to warmer climates to cease, 
must have been of wonderful use in his struggle for ex- 
istence. Geo. a. Boardman. 
The Buffalo Again. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The Parson's recent account of a buft'alo killing and 
the supposed danger of placing himself in front of the 
advancing herd, recalls an incident of the early '70s, de- 
tailed to the writer by the chief actor in the scene. The 
gentleman in question is w^ell known, of high standing, 
and at the time was teaching in New York city. In 
vacation he went West in charge of several pupils, young 
men from wealthy families. They saw at one time a 
buffalo herd thirty miles wide— not compact, but scat- 
tered over the plain, so that the distance covered in 
riding through the herd was thirty miles. The buffalo 
were feeding, and paid little attention to the horsemen. 
Only one dense, compact herd was seen. Then my 
friend stood by his horse at a distance of say 30 yards and 
saw a herd rush past in the close mass described in the 
school readers of forty or fifty years ago. 
This herd v/as about five or six rods wide, and rush- 
ing at full speed. During that summer over 3,000,000 
of buffalo hides were shipped eastward from one of the 
principal railroad shipping stations in Kansas (the figures 
were official), and my friend said that as his party rode 
northward from the railroad during a ride of sixty miles 
they were never out of sight of buffalo skulls or other 
remains of the noble game left bleaching by the hidi.'. 
hunters. No wonder the buffalo is but a memory! 
My friend's first experience in buffalo killing was with 
a guide named Charley. They had hunted nearly all day 
without .finding game, when toward night they saw a 
herd feeding toward them. It was led by a cow. They 
lay down on the prairie with no screen but the short buf- 
falo grass. Charley said: "Take out all your cartridges 
and lay them on the grass in front of you ready for in- 
stant use." It was done. "Now, don't stir till I tell 
you." When, on the near approach of the herd, my 
friend became a little nervous, Charley several times 
placed a hand on the back of his neck to prevent his 
raising his head to look. Charley also said: "When the 
time comes to shoot be sure and not move while any 
buffalo is looking at you. If you do, they will be likely 
to charge." When the leader, within a few rods, turned 
partly broadside, Charley whispered: "Now take her," 
and the quick-answering shot laid her struggling on the 
plain. "Keep still; don't move;" said Charley as several 
bulls rushed to the fallen cow, and, smelling her blood, 
began to bellow angrily and look in every direction for 
the enemy. My friend wanted to shoot them rapidly as 
possible, supposing that he was fighting for his life. But 
Charley would not permit a shot till every eye was in 
some other direction. Then whispering "Now," another 
victim would fall, or, badly wounded, run away. For 
about half an hour the fight lasted. By that time the 
herd had been frightened away and seven buffalo — six 
bulls and the cow — were lying hors de combat. Had an 
unwary movement betrayed the hunters to the infuriated 
bulls around the cow a precipitate charge would have 
changed the result very materially. My friend said that 
afterward he did not think the danger as great as he sup- 
posed it to be at the time. It was, nevertheless, very real, 
and only Charley's coolness and skill averted it. 
Comparing this and the Parson's account with Park- 
man's description of buffalo hunting in the "Oregon 
Trail," where men on foot "approached" a herd with 
impunity and killed as many as needed, one is led to the 
conclusion that buffalo learned something about white 
men and firearms and became more wild and more sav- 
age as the years of slaughter went on. 
Juvenal. 
[We do not understand that even in Parkman's time 
buffalo could be approached openly without taking the 
alarm. The term "approach" used then, and .still later, 
had a special meaning. There were two ways of killing 
buffalo — one by running or chasing them, the other by 
