226 
we were in the rain, and it seemed to come down in 
pailsfiil. We caught water enough in a few minutes to 
make coffee for our breakfast. It is quite a novel sight 
to see clouds gather and showers form if one has never 
seen them. 
It cleared while we were eating breakfast, but we could 
see that there was to be no good weather for a while, so 
we turned back to a better place, to await fair weather, 
and did not see this place again for two weeks. After we 
started back, the clouds seemed to close in on us, the 
rain poured out of them, balls of lightning seemed to 
burst within a few feet of us or shoot across the trail, 
bhnding us, while thunder, sharper than I had ever heard, 
crashed by our sides and rolled away to the valley below, 
or bursting below us seemed to echo from side to side 
oi the canon. It was a grand sight, but a little too close. 
We had to travel for miles through mountain ash and 
moose brush sp thick we could not see the horse ahead or 
behind us on the trail. Each leaf carried about a spoon- 
ful of water, which was unloaded down the back of one's 
neck as we stooped to pass under them. This shower 
lasted about an hour, then turned to sleet, and finally 
to snow, on the summit. About 6 o'clock we reached 
the river, wetter and colder than we would have been 
had we taken a plunge in its waters. But we were con- 
tented, as we had had no accidents and the trail was very 
slippery after the rain. A rousing fire of pitch pine soon 
warmed us, although it rained so hard we could not dry 
our clothes, and had to crawl into wet blankets to sleep. 
As we had not eaten since 8 o'clock in the morning we 
all had appetites. The five of us ate eight grouse, a 
kettle of potatoes, a can of tomatoes, a can of macaroni 
and cheese, a can of peaches, bread and butter and hot 
coffee — I refrain from mentioning more. T would rec- 
ornmend to those who have poor appetites to take a trip 
into the Clearwater Countrj^. 
In .the morning it was still raining, and there was no 
feed for the horses short of Pack Creek meadows. We 
rede back there and camped, waiting for it to clear off; 
but it snowed and rained most of the time. We were 
continually wet. himting birds or fishing, so on the fourth 
day we pulled out for the Hot Springs, where we got a 
good hot bath, dry clothes and a dry place to sleep. 
None of us felt anj^ the M^orse for soaking and freezing 
for a week, and all said they were Avilling to go again 
when opportunity offered. Bert Stevens, 
Sam's Boy.-XVI. 
Trappiog, 
Sammy was very confident of retrieving his fortune, but 
he ranged the hunting ground faithfully without the luck 
of findmg a fox. It seemed as if there must have been a 
general exodus of foxes from Danvis. The few trails 
found were so cold that at best they drew only a reluctant 
challenge from the keenest-nosed hound and at last faded 
out to a doubtful suspicion of a scent. Experienced 
hunters attributed these cold, infrequent trails to a wise 
old vixen, who for many years escaped guns and insidious 
traps to rear her yearly litter on Hedge-hog Hill, and 
taught her cubs much of the cunning she had learned in 
a long life. She was a plague to poultry wives, of 
which they were powerless to rid themselves, as the fox 
hunters had no mmd to do, so long as she provided foxes 
for their sport. It became an unwritten law of the old 
hunters to let her go by if ever they got a shot at her ; and 
she was too cunning to be in n.mch danger from the 
young fellows. 
Poor Sammy grew more and more discouraged with 
following Drive up hill and down dale to the slow music 
of his infrequent bugle notes until they ended in a final 
long-drawn announcement of failure; or if a fox was got 
up, the chase led far away into the fastnesses of the moun- 
tains. His father told him that there was no use in 
hunting any more until the first snows fell, when the 
foxes would probably return from their migration, But 
Sammy was so nettled by Antoine's continual scoffs that 
he was determined to get a fox by hook or by crook, and 
as a last resort set a trap, as what country boy has not? 
He knew it was a practice held in utter detestation by all 
honest fox hunters, and by none more than by his father. 
The temptation was great and success seemed certain. 
He would catch but one, just to end the everlasting poking 
fun at him. No one would ever know how he got it. He 
easily possessed himself of one of his father's raccoon 
traps and set about ridding it of the scent of iron which 
every one said, except those who knew, was what a wise 
fox most feared. 
He smoked it thoroughly in the pungent reek of green 
hemlock and then proceeded to make a proper bed for its 
reception. First, he removed the sod and earth from a 
carefully chosen knoll, 2 feet in diameter and 8 inches 
dppr^ . pnd filled the hollow with buckwheat, and carefully 
set the trap, with a wooden clog attached, in the lowest 
part of the bed. When all was completed it looked to him 
a very unsuspicious arrangement. Over all he sprinkled 
a liucral bait of toasted cheese rinds. 
He made a gingerly retreat from the precincts with an 
assurance of success, somewhat dampened, it is true, by a 
twinge of '^hame at using such underhand means to cir- 
cumvent a poor fox. 
Sammy paid his first visit to the trap in considerable 
excitement, wondering in what condition he should find 
it, yet almost sure it would not be quite undisturbed, so 
skillfully wa- it hidden and so temptingly baited. But not 
a morsel of the bait was touched. 
"Didn't none happen tu come nigh last night, but tu- 
night they will, you'll see." he said ; and one at least did, 
for when Sammy approached the place, treading cautiously 
on tiptoe and craning his neck, he saw the trap lying 
sprung and quite naked among the chaff and conspicuously 
displayed on top of it the most contemptuous token of 
Reynard's visit that could be given. 
In deep resentment of the insult, Sammy set the trap 
with redoubled care and baited it with the choicest tid- 
bits, but all to no purpose, save the uncovering of the 
trap and a clean sweep of the bait. Now his trapping 
came to an unexpected end. Drive followed him at some 
little distance behind until, as he was making an unseen, 
careful retreat from the bed, he cast a backward glance at 
it, when, to his horror, he saw the hotind making a 
curious examination of this odd arrangement, Sammy 
had only time to call out a sharp command before the 
hound poked a tentative paw into the chaff, sprung the 
trap upon it, and thereupon set up a howl of pain and 
astonishment, followed by another and another, all loud 
enough to be heard a mile away. 
Then he made for home as fast as the clog would let 
him, until Sammy overhauled him, as frightened as he, 
got a foot on the spring and set him free. But the 
hound continued the dolorous outcry as he hobbled home- 
ward, now and then stopping to examine his pinched 
foot. Sammy followed hard on his heels till the orchard 
wall was reached, from behind which now suddenly ap- 
peared, most unwelcome of possible apparitions, the tall 
form of Sam Lovel, his face expressing a droll mingling 
of vexation and amusement. 
'What on airth is the matter wi' the dog?"' he said, as 
he stooped to examine the hurt foot, while Sammy stood 
aloof, down-headed and shame-faced with the trap 
dangling from his hand and wishing it a thousand miles 
away. 
"I — I — kinder guess he — ^gties^s he got ifitti a traj)," was 
the abashed reply. 
'T wonder who ever sot traps raound here." 
"I — I — guess I done it," Sammy stammered, dreading 
open confession, though he well knew that in it alone was 
peace of mind. 
"I shouldn't scarcely ha' thought aour Bub would be 
tryin' tu ketch foxes — sech a mean, sneakin' sort o' busi- 
ness, 'specierly for a feller 'at's got him a good dawg an' 
good gun. Why, I'm act'ally 'shamed on him !" 
So Sammy wanted to say for himself, but his quivering 
lips would not shape the words, and he blubbered a 
blundering apology instead. 
"They was a-laughin' at me — an' I thought I'd git one 
— an' — an' make 'em b'lieve I shot it an' they'd stop the' 
noise — an' then T wouldn't ketch more — an' I wouldn't 
only one." 
"No, so ye wouldn't, Bttb,^' Said his father with Some- 
thing of pity in his voice, "nor the fust one nuther. Boys 
al'ays thinks they can, but they don't never •" 
"But I did — 'most !" Sammy asserted with some spirit. 
"Yes, the fox clawed aout the trap and' sprung it, an' 
eat up all the bait, an' jes' so he kep' a-doin'," said his 
father, "an that's as nigh as boys — an' most men — ^gets, 
an' never knowin' what the trouble is." 
"If they can't ketch 'em, I don't see what hurt the' is in 
tryin'," Sammy ventured to argue. 
" 'Cause it's showin' a mean dispersition, a-tryin' tu 
steal other folkses' fun,'' his father answered; "an' they 
be mean, them 'at does. Look a' ol' Ike Haraner, sneakin' 
aout airly in October an' ketchin' hul litters 'fore they're 
half-prime, an' sp'ilin' lots o' fun for us — for the' be some 
'at knows haow," Sam hastened in confusion to ammend 
the inconsistency of his assertions. "But the' haint, no 
boys, a-touchin' trap an' bait an' all as car'less as if they 
was settin' skunk traps. You can't never shoot one? 
Shaw, yes ye can tew. I didn't kill the fust one I shot at 
an' don't al'ays naow. Can't git no shots? Why, the' 
al'ays comes sech spells when the' haint none 'raound, 
but the's some ol' varmints, 'at starts for Ne' Hampshir' 
the fust hoot a haoun' gives. You'll git your chance tu 
rights, but if ye don't, don't never set no fox traps. Jes 
see haow nigh you come tu spilin' Drive's foot ! S'posing 
he'd got ketched way off aouten hearin', an" the dog got 
hung! He'd tore his foot half off a-tryin' tu git loose, an 
wouldn't b'en no good for tew months," 
"Oh. I never thought o' that, Daddy, till jest as I see 
Drive a-pokin' int' the trap," Sammy managed to say be- 
tween catches of the voice, begotten of various emotions, 
to one of which he gave vigorous expression by pitclting 
the trap against the wall. 
"Wal, the' haint no gre't harm done, an' I ruther guess 
Bub won't set no more fox traps." Sam said, without 
appearing to notice the act, and the boy's renunciation 
could not have been more assured by plighted word. 
His father picked up the trap carelessly, and the pair 
walked home together, the younger, at least, in great peace 
of mind. 
It was early in December when signs of the long-ex- 
pected first snow began to show in the gradual misty 
fading of the blue sky until the rays of the sun grew 
pale and short, as it waded toward the west, becoming a 
faint, blurred patch, giving no apparent warmth nor light; 
and when it was gone, no one knew whether it was sun- 
down but by the almanac. 
Every newcomer to the shop in turn prophesied snow, 
until at last, when Uncle Lisha looked where the invisible 
witches were drinking tea around the glowing counterfeit 
of the red stove draft under the old apple tree, he 
spied an unusual whiteness gathering in the corners of the 
dusty, cobwebbed panes and forthwith propounded a time- 
honored riddle, which, hke all its class, could be guessed 
only by those who already knew it. 
"Raoun' the haouse an' raoun' the house, an' leave a 
white glove in the winder." 
Every one promptly answered, "Snow!" 
"Right you be." Uncle Lisha made concession, and 
some one opened tlie outer door and verified it by showing 
the cold, white sparks wavering downward in the candle 
light athwart the dusky patch of night. 
Sammy was all ears when Joseph Hill remarked in an 
inquiring Avay, "Wal, Samuel, you'll 'most hafter kinder 
give 'ena a-tryin' in the -morning', if it don't blow like Sam 
Hill or suthin' ?" 
"No, I can't go tu-morrer," Sam sighed. "I got some 
fixin' up for winter, jest as I al'ays hev when the first 
snow comes. Sammy can go, though, if he wants to." 
With this comforting assurance, the boy curled up in his 
favorite lair on the leather, and finding little to interest 
him in the politics into which his elders presently fell, be- 
set Uncle Lisha in whispers to "tell some more riddles." 
This his old friend was nothing loath to do, as it would 
not hinder his listening to propound the unguessable 
questions nor giving the time-worn answers. 
So he began with, "Niddy, noddy, tew heads an' one 
body" ; and when he thought Sammy had given it enough 
unavailing study, supplied the answer, "A barrel," without 
distracting his own attention. Then, as he kept one ear 
attentively cocked to a criticism of the "S'lec' Men's 
duin's," he delivered aside. 
"CWc, Chic, Cherry, O, 
All the men in Derry, O, ■» 
Can't aimb Ghic, Cherry, G," 
and in due time announced that "Chic Cherry O" was no 
more nor less than smoke. This reminded him of his 
pipe, which he sorted from among his tools beside him 
and began filling, while he propounded several other brain- 
racking riddles such as, 
"Nitty crout, 
Netty crout, 
Wears a white petticrout 
And a red nose'; 
The longer she lives the shortei' she grows," 
which Sammy could not. guess, though it was the candle 
before his eyes. Then followed, 
"Hill full, 
A hole full. 
You can't ketch a bowl full [dew]. 
"Over the water. 
Under the water, 
Never teched the water" [a duck's egg], 
and that masterpiece of poetry and mystery, 
"Chink, chink, 
Through the brook. 
And never stops to drink," 
the solution of which was a chain dragged through a 
brook by oxen. 
When Uncle Lisha's stock wag' exhausted and he sug- 
gested to Sammy the wisdom of going to bed so that he 
might be up betimes, "It's the airly bird 'at gits the worm, 
you know; an' I've heard your father say time an' ag'in, 
'An haour 'fore sun up's wuth tew arter,' an' I allers- 
noticed he'd git up airlier tu go huntin' 'an anything else. 
The snow' 11 kiver the shack* on the beech ridges, an' 
mebby send the fox daown inter the open arter mice, so 
like 'nough you'll start one. Hope so. Good night." 
Sammy overcame his boy's dislike of going to bed after 
a brave struggle, and slowly drifted into dreamland, while 
he committed the riddles to memory for future use at 
school, and listened anxiously for signs of rising wind that 
might come to spoil to-morrow's sport. There was no 
warning sough of chimneys nor soft swish of flakes 
against the panes — only the slide and slump of an over- 
laden branch's burden upon the roof. 
Rowland E. Robinson, 
[to be continued.] 
Hunting the Nilghas with Old 
Mu^zleloaders. 
The nilghas, meaning blue bull {Portax p ictus), is the 
largest of the Indian antelopes, being from 52 to 58 inches 
high at the shoulder and often 600 pounds in weight. The 
bones are large and hard, tiie hide so thick and tough 
that it was formerly used by the natives of India for mak- 
ing shields. The bull is of a dark blue slate color all 
over the upper part of the body and legs, except that there 
are white rings around the fetlocks and a white patch on 
the throat. The under parts of the chest and abdomen are 
also white. The animal is much higher at the withers 
than at the hind quarters, and resembles the ox tribe 
m having a tail reaching to the hocks, but is like the 
antelope in having lachr3'mal sinuses in front of the orbits. 
The muzzle is large, hairless and moist, like that of the' 
ox. The bull has horns, round and rather sharp pointed, 
from 7 to 9 inches long, a stiff upright black mane along 
the ridge of the neck and a long bunch of black hair 
hanging downward below the throat. 
The cow is smaller than the bull, has no horns and is of 
a reddish yellow color above and white on the abdo- 
men. The period of gestation is said to be eight months, 
and two young are often produced at a birth. The food 
consists chiefly of the leaves and berries of various trees, 
but I suspect they will also eat grain or natchnee, having 
on several occasions seen them close to or actually in the 
cultivated fields. The late Captain Forsyth, Conservator 
of Forests in Central India, stated that they can go for 
several days without water, and certainly they are some- 
times found in very dried-up parts of the country. I 
liave met with them in various districts from the Punjab to 
the central provinces, but have not seen or heard of them 
in the mountains; and Dr. Jerdan, a great authority on 
Indian natural history, says that they are never found in 
the extreme south. 
In districts where there are few Europeans and the 
population consists mainly of Hindoos of good caste (who 
will not kill nilghae, believing them to belong to the ox 
tribe), these animals show very little fear of man; but in 
places where they are often hunted they become as wild 
as deer, and Sir Samuel Bullcr stated that he found them 
more difficult to stalk than sambhur. 
Low-caste Hindoos are glad of the chance of eating 
them, and Mussulmen are also fond of the flesh, if one 
of their own religion be present to make it "hallal," or law- 
ful, by cutting the throat before life is quite extinct. That 
of the full-grown animal is rather tough, and Europeans 
seldom keep any parts except the tongue, heart and mar- 
row bones. 
When taken young the nilghas is easily tamed, but the 
bull is sometimes dangerous, being apt to charge at peo- 
ple. He will also do this occasionally when wounded 
and brought to bay by a hunter, R. A. Sterndale, 
F.R.G.S., had a bull which he could ride, and which he 
employed for carrying his servants' baggage when out 
in camp. 
In some places these animals have a habit, which I 
have also noticed in gazelles, of depositing their dung- 
on the same spot for several days, until a large round 
mass a yard and a half in diameter has been collected. 
When looking for game in the jungles of central India 
I had often caught momentary glimpses of them disap- 
pearing among the trees, but never had a chance of a shot 
at a vital part, so had not fired. In the cold weather of 
1869 I was traveling on duty in an unfrequented part of 
the country, and. after taking breakfast at a dawk bun- 
,2alow, strolled through some jungle near it carrying a 
Westley Richards breechloading carbine, .45 caliber. The 
part of the cartridge containing the powder was of thin, 
tough paper, which was penetrated by the flash of a cap 
placed on a nipple just above the chamber. I never knew 
it to miss fire, and with new cartridges the accuracy was 
♦Beechnuts, 
