Amtt 7, ipoo.] 
» -ii 
FOREST AJ^D STREAM. 
2&S 
satisfactory thing that Mr. Harriman, who himself is an 
enihusiaslic hunter and a hard worker, should have been 
(he one lo kill tJie first— and as it afterward proved, the 
only— siJQciraen of this very desirable game. 
It was later— on St. Lawrence Island— that the only 
polar bear hunt of the trip took place. The party had 
landed, and as was its custom, had scattered out to in- 
vestigate diiTerent things. The geologists were cracking 
rod<s; the invertebrate men were following the beach and 
overlooking its wash; the botanists were filling their tin 
cases with plants, and the bird and mammal men, with 
guns and traps, were collecting small birds and mice, all 
according to their custom. To one of these last, a shining 
light of science, came two of the young girls, running 
back- as hard as they could from further inland, and 
gasping as they ran, "Bears, Bears." The shining light 
of science was provided only with a very light shotgun 
and a nuinber of cartridges loaded for the tiniest birds, 
but searching in his pockets he found several buckshot car- 
tridges, and boldly started of? to kill the bears, sending 
the young girls back for reinforcements in the shape of 
Jiuniers armed with rifles. 
The place where the bears were had been pointed out to 
him, and on reaching a ridge, and carefullv peeping over 
it, he could see their white backs a long' way off. He 
stalked them with the utmost care, creeping prone over 
the tundra, taking advantage of everv sag and hollow, 
and only at long intervals cautiously lifting his head high 
enough to see that the white backs were still there. 
Gradually he approached, and as he got nearer and 
nearer he at last felt certain that he would have a shot at 
a polar bear, and for such a privilege he felt willing, if 
necessary, to be torn in pieces after the shot had been 
fired. His last glimpse at the prey was at a distance of 
,about a hundred j^ards, but he knew how big and strong 
polar i;ears are, how thick their hair and" how tough 
their hides, and he did not dare fire at them at that dis- 
tance when he had only buckshot in his guu. Hugging 
the earth he crept along, nearer, and still nearer, 'and 
noAv his heart was beating a little faster as he thought 
what a few moments might bring forth, when suddenly a 
long, white, slender neck was stretched up in the air. and 
then • another, loud cries resounded, there was a pro- 
digious flapping of wings, and two swans took to flight, 
running a long distance over the tundra before they could 
rise 111 the air. His polar bears wore feathers. 
It was comforting to the members of the Big Game 
Committee to listen to the shouts of laughter which hailed 
the sbining light of .science when he returned to the 
.ship and told his story. The onlv polar bears seen on 
the trip were those that he had hunted. G. B. G. 
Sam's Boy.-XVlII. 
Fox Life. ' 
"Good airth an' seas! If this 'ere boy hain't be'n an' 
gone an' killed a fox all alone by hisself!" cried Uncle 
Lisha, overwhelmed by surprise, expressed in every look 
and motion, as he dropped tools and work, pushed his 
spectacles far upon his forhead, struggled to his feet 
and pranced wildly forward to meet Samrny. 
The boy entered the shop, and swinging the proud 
burden from his shoulder, remarked in assumed indif- 
ference, "I forgot my knife, an' so I had to lug the crit- 
tur all the w-ay hum! I tell ye what, foxes is heavy, 
come tu lug 'em tew mild." 
"Yes, yes, I guess they be; jes' as solid as ol' pork; 
but you was glad o' the chance tu lug it, wa'n't ye, Bub? 
Hev ye showed the folks in the haouse what ye done? 
Jerushy! Huldy! Come right here quick an' see what 
this boy's done!" 
His uproarious call brought the two women and Polly 
hurr3^ing to the shop, as might all the neighborhood if it 
had been weather for open doors and windows, and they 
purred over the boy and praised him to his heart's con- 
tent. He was glad that he had forgotten his knife, for 
a whole fox was better worth showing than a mere skin 
and was a world's wonder to little Sister. 
No longer trying to curb his exultation, he told ex- 
citedly all the story of his achievement to his audience, 
the feminine majority kindly making pretense of inter- 
est in eveiy incident. 
"Why, for all this livin' world!" cried Uncle Lisha, 
finding ircsli cause for surprise as he made a closer ex- 
amination of the fox's carcass; "if I don't r'al'y b'lieve 
tills 'ere's the ol' Haidgehog Hill fox— the very same ol' 
crittur me an' you was a-watchin' playin' wi' her young 
uns when you was a shaver. I gin her a hint to look 
aout"- He checked himself, for he became aware that 
he might reveal an unpleasant secret to the womenkind. 
"We didn't think j'ou'd be a-killin' on her so soon. My! 
liaow'.time does paig away! To-day it's a baby's shoes, 
lu-morfcr'a ha1f-growed boy's stogies." And the old 
man sighed, thinking how his little boy was growing out 
of one soi't of camaraderie. 
"Just lay your fox on them luther scraps an' you can 
.skin it cqhif'table," he said, as the women withdrew, and 
Sammy, iipthing loath to accept such warm quarters for 
wiiat promised to be a tedious job for his inexperienced 
hands, •sfia:rpened his knife and set about it. 
"Poor ol' foxey," said Uncle Lisha, musing over the 
iiirrjf form; "she won't raise no more fam'lies in Haidge- 
liawg laidges, an' I tell ye what. Bub, your father won't 
be none tew glad on't/' he added in a lowered tone. 
Sammy thought it very hard that some would not be 
suited, w'bether he' killed a fox or not. 
"WaFjI nev' mind: she can't be fetched tu life naow," 
said Uncle' Lisha. "But I swan, it makes me feel kinder 
lunsome^ thinkin' haow we sha'n't never see her no more 
a-shootin"back an' tu on this ar'nt an' that. A hard life 
slie's had on't.' fust an' last, but it was her'n, an' she got 
tlie best she could aout on't, ever sen' she was a leetle 
trcnty, tawnty. peaked-tailed cub a-playin' wi' her mam- 
my an' mates np in the aidge o' the woods tu Haidge- 
hog afore you was borned, mebby." 
"Oh, du you know 'baout her. Uncle Lisher?" Sammy 
a^ked. hungering for one of tlie old stories, somehow 
grown infrequent of late. 
"Wal. T' ran kind er guess some, an' some I du know'," 
.said the old man. nothing loath for a renewal of the old 
iiitcrcoitp.<:e. and beginning at once at the boy's eager 
"Oh, tc!!'!'. 
"W-al, fust she ktiowed she opetied her eyes in a dark 
hole, snuggled up tu her mammy wi' her brofiiers an' 
sisters, an' then it wa'n't long afore they was all layin' 
aout in the sunshine, the grass beginnin' tu grow an' the 
fust birds come. An' then their mammy was off nights, 
comin hum airly, naow wi' a maou'ful o' mice or a rab- 
bit or pa'tridge, an' sometimes, don't ye b'lieve, wi' a 
cdt, an' naow an' ag'in wi' a young skunk, an' caounted 
it proper good strong victuals; an' the' was mushrat an' 
woo'chuck, and I do' know what all; an' byme-bye the 
ol' one come home mornin's wi' a lam, an' then turkeys 
an' chickens, an' tu rights the' was wings an' laigs an' 
feathers scattered raound the burrer so thick you couldn't 
help a-noticin'. So someb'dy did, an' 't wa'n't long 
'fore they come for tu dig 'em aout. The ol' lady'd 
shewed her young uns 'at there was more'n one door tu 
their haouse, but 'stead o' runnin' aout o' the back door 
when the folks come to the front, the leetle fools scatted 
clean int' the furder chamber — all but this one; she run 
aout, 'long wi' her mammy, an' she stood off a-barkin' 
her heart aout tu see her babies dug aout an' kerried off 
right afore her face an' eyes. They wa'n't killed, but 
took captive, an' gi'n raoun' tu one an' another an- 
chained up or put in a pen for folks tu come an' gawp at 
an' pester. 
"Tom Hamlin had one 'at he put a chain on tu an 
bed a bo.x wi" a hole in the side tu run intu, coml'table 
as you please, an' his mammy uscter go nights an' visit 
him an' kerry him mice, an' I'arn him tricks 'at gi'n him 
lots o' fun. But one on 'em was pooty nigh his ondoin'. 
He scattered his crumbs wi'in reach o' his chain, an' 
lay back makin' b'lieve he was asleep, a-peekin' aout'n 
the corner o' one eye, till byme-b3^e a fool of a half- 
growed chicken 'Id come gawkin' raound a-pickin up 
crumb.s, an' fust he knowed Mr. Fox bed him an' he was 
a spilte wruster. Tom was a-goin' tu quit keepin' a wil' 
beast show, but his boy begged so hard foxey's life Avas 
saved, but his chain was shortened up consid'able. Arter 
a spell it got a weak place wore in it so 't the fox got a 
twist on 't 'at broke it, an' away he scooted for the woods.. 
The strap choked him as his neck growed, but his mamy 
gnawed it off arter a spell, an' in course o' time the hul 
pboodle o' the litter got away somehabw, 'ceptin' one 
'at was sol' tu a caravan an' went a-travelin' fur an' near 
an' see more folks 'an 'most any fox 'at ever Hved. Wal, 
ol' Marm Fox she sot tu larnin' her family haow tu git 
an honest livin' in the woods an' off 'm the" farms where 
the ol' women raised poultry for 'em, easier ketched 'an 
the pa'tridge an' rabbits or hall-growed crows 'at lit 
raound huntin' grubs, an' larnt 'em tu take up wi'h beech- 
nut an' acorn shack an' grasshoppers when the' wa'n't 
better, an' tu look aout for the smell of a man whenever;, 
they faound it as the dang'ousest thing the' was an' tu gp 
on fresh airth an' naked rock an' ice tu hide the' own. 
scent from haoun'n' dawgs, an' took 'em over all the run-' 
ways wi'in four mild. An' then she turned 'em aout in. 
tlie world tu shift for the'selves, kinder Avatchin' aout tu 
see haow they made it. 
"One went right contr'y tu what she tol' him. a-foolin' 
raound where thie' was a bunk o' skunk meat stuck on a 
stick aout in a puddle o' water, wi' a piece o' sod half- 
way aout from the bank jest handy tii put a foot on an' 
reach aout to 't. It smelt strong o'" skunk an' mushrat 
musk an' anise, an' the' wa'n't no smell, o'. human -'baout, 
but it looked kind'er fixed up, an' the ol', im says, , says 
she, 'You let that 'ere alone; the's things 'nough:;:t' eat, 
besides that 'ere.' But he w^us onc-.O' 'your know-it-alls,' 
an' bed to jest smell on 't oncte. So he sot his forefoot 
on the sod an' reached aout so keerful he knowed if 
couldn't du no hurt, but the' Avas a snap an' a bile in thf 
water an' his foot was in a grip as if a mud-turkle bed 
a-holt on 't. - ,.>; 
"Back he jumped twicte his len'th a'n' went a-sprawliti 
on his back, but for all it pooty nigh pulled his laig off 
the trap hung, an' kep' a-hangin' lor all his yankin',.an 
squallin', an' all he could do was drag the hul biln', traj 
an' clog, along the graound till it ketched, an' then yanl^ 
an' Avork till it let go. He might ha'''gnawed his foot off, 
as his mammy tol' him tu, but he kep' a-Avastin' time, 
a-draggin' an' a twitching a hull day. till it was tew late, 
an' a-long come a man pn' knocke'd hiili; in" the head wi' 
a hatchet, so that was the end o' him! ' 
" 'TAvas one Avay an' npther \vi' the-rest on 'em — a-gittin' 
hunted an' trapped an' steerin' clear an' not. but this 'ere 
particilar one Avas the cutest an' alters the favoryte Avi' 
her mammy. She'd remember Avhat she was tol' an' 
didn't fool raoun' no traps ner pizen bait— the' be them 
'at pizens foxes — an' the fust time a haoun' got arter her 
she played him some pooty smart capers. She run in a 
dusty.rhud, an' through a flock o' sheep, an' top o' fences, 
an' finally bothered him so on a Avindy laidge 'at he gi'n 
it up. But one time aour ol' DriA-e got arter her an' gi'n 
her a tough one. Try Avhat she Avould, sheep, or fences, 
or plaowed land, or laidges, or ice, he'd stick tu her ju' 
like teazles, a-circling till he hit her track on good fol.lerin' 
an' sendin' her skivin' till she Avas nigh about tuckered, 
an' then her mammy come an' mixed her track all up 
wi' the }-oung uns so the ol' dawg got off arter tlic ol' 
one, a thing he didn't often do, an' she led him a wil' 
goose chase over sheep paths an' laidges till she was. so 
fur ahead his voice Avas lunsome as a blue bird's song in 
the fall. When she couldn't sca'cely hear it, she put her, 
cross lots for the maountin lickety-rip up a .gully an' up 
the bank on 't, not thinkin' nobody wi'in milds' Avhen, ker 
slap, she come outer a man, which it was your father, of 
all men in the Avorld! She stopped so quick she nigh 
abaout keeled over, an' then turned tail ah' skinned for 
su'thin' tu git behind— a tree, or stump, or rock— but the' 
Ava'n't none for rods an' rods. An' so as she was layin' 
herself stret, wi' her ears clus tu her head an' her tail 
the size o' your laig. \\'hang! went the ol' gun behind 
her an' daoAvn she went wi' a broken hip. "■' 
"The man was half-way tu her afore she could gather: 
but Avhen she did. her three laigs Avas tew many for hi;' 
tew. for all the mis'able broken one a-floppin' loose an 
achin' wus 'n forty teethaches, an' she got tu tUe Avoods 
afore he could load a-runnin' an' then p'inted for a hole 
jhe knoAved on. It run 'Avay back 'n' under a big rock, 
so the' Ava'n't no sech a thing as diggin' on. her aout, 
which your father A\'as turrible sorry 'baoiit. Your father, 
stopped the hole an' Avent an' got a trap an' sot it tu 
ketch her when she tried tu come aout" ■ 
"What !" cried Sammy, al' ^gape with , surprise, "my 
daddy set a trap for a fox? 1 don't b'lieve it" 
"Why, yes. Bub, when one was waound so an' sufferiH', 
but not no other ways. Wal, when he went tu look at it 
two-three days arter, she hcdn't ben anigh the trap an' 
when he s'arched all raound the laidge for another hole, 
he faound a narrer crack wi' some mice poked into 't. 
ies, sir, this 'ere young un had ben an' gone an' took 
teed tu her ol' distressed mammy, jest as duterful as a 
huinern— yes, more 'n some," and the old man sighed. 
■ He hated tu, but he stopped up that place, an' pooty 
soon ketched the ol' un as nigh dead as alive. Wal, this 
un was all alone in the world wi'aout kith or kin, an' 
lunsome enough, but she come o' that, as foxes an' 
mortals du, an' enjoyed life a-scootin' raound in the 
woods huntm' pa'tridge an'^abbits as her marm had larnt 
her. But it was the biggesffun in spring when the young 
lambs come, tu cut intu a flock o' gre't big ewes an' kerry 
off a lamb 'most as heavy as herself. 
"Or in summer tu find a flock of half-groAved turkeys 
strayin' raound the lots an' kill beyund all reason ten 
times more 'n she an' all her fam'ly could eat— for she 
■ bed her a fam'ly then. Like 'nough 't would be right in 
sight of a haouse, wi' an' ol' womern lookin' on rarin' 
an' tarin' an' siccin' the dawg on, whilst Mis' Foxy slewed 
em right an' left, an' then slung one over her shoulder 
an off int the woods afore the dawg gut half-way. That 
vas fun alive tu see the turkeys a-flutterin' an' flym' an' 
yelpin an'^ 'twas payin' the folks for killin' the foxes oft 
uu twant no worse for her an' for them, for they all 
done It come fall, an' she knowed she killed mice enough 
tu pay for all she took. But it wa'n't the way they looked 
at it. 
"The way of her hevin' a fam'ly Avas, when it come 
pleasant nights in February, the moon shinin' so 't the 
snow looked whiter 'n it does in sunshine, an' the shad- 
ders so blue they was 'most black, the' come a harnsome 
young fox a-caperin' raound her on the eends o' his toes 
an his tail a-stickin' up like a raouster's. His fur was as 
red as a cherry an' his tail as big as your laig— gosh, yes, 
mine— an' a Avhite tip on 't six inches long. He jest put 
his best^foot for'ard for her, an' she couldn't stir a rod 'at 
he Ava'n't with her, an' the eend on 't Avas they was mar- 
,ried. They lived here an' there a-sleepin' in pleasant 
nights on a snow-kivered rock or stump or a nest o' 
Avild grass, wi' one ear cocked for'ard and t'other back'ard 
an ^noses sot for any scent the wind might kerry. When 
the come a-rippin' ol' storm they'd git intu a den or 
burrer an Aveather it aout snug as a flea in a blanket. 
'Come spring they cleaned aout an ol' burrer tu 
HaidgehaAvg liill an' went tu haousekeepin' in airnest, 
ail nex thing the' was four baby foxes. Tew on 'em was 
JU like or'nary fox babies, but one was mos' black, an' 
nother a measly lookin' little runt wi' hair as if he'd ben 
singed, But his marm sot jest as much by him as she did 
t- others, an' when it come tu feedin' on 'em mice an' 
sech, she see 't he had his full sheer. If he'd ha' growed 
up he wouldn't never looked no better, for he was Avhat 
they call a Samson fox, the idee bein', I s'pose, 'at they 
came down from them 'at Samson sot fire tu an' le' go 
111 the^Philistynes' cornfiel's, a turrible cur'ous way o* 
burnin' on 't, it al'ays 'peared tu me. Hunters shoot 'em 
tyhen^ they come along, but they haint sca'cely worth 
•skinmn . But he never growed up. One moonlight 
night the fam'ly Avas loafin' aou'door a-snappin' 
at May bugs 'at Avas a-blunderin' 'raound, when the' come 
a shadder, an' clust behind it wi'aout no more n'ise, a big-' 
headed, long-eared ol' hoot aowl an' grabbed poor leetle 
Samson an' off wi' him , like a evil sperit. Mis' Fox ran 
arter him, a-barkin' an' squallin', but that was all she 
could du, an' tlie last she ever see o' poor leetle Samson, 
ceptin' a fcAv bones an' wapse o' his fraowzly fur. She 
felt jest as bad for him as if he'd ben her biggest an' 
harnsomest. When that one got growed up he was harn- 
some, I tell ye. His sides Avas gray an' a black stripe 
run daown his back Avi' another acrost the shoulders, an' 
lus tail black wi' a Avhite tip to 't. He was what they call 
a cross fox, not on 'caount o' bein' uglier 'n or'nary ones, 
but o' the cross on the back. A sort o' come-by-chance 
they be, sca'ce as they be, an' wuth three-four times as 
much as the reds. So Avhen this chap got big 'nough tu 
go Avanderin' an' seen o'-men he was sometimes took for 
a black or a silver gray Avith ever so much more, an' every 
hunter was arter him hot-footed afore he got prime an' 
the' .Avas traps gapin' for him sot bv folks 'at never sot 
a trap afore." 
"Did my daddy?" Sammy asked, half fearing a fall for 
his idol. 
"No, indeedy, not he !" Uncle Lisha answered very de- 
cidedly. "But him an' ol' Drive Avas arter that fox airly ' 
an' late. Your dad would take the daAvg off at dark an' 
Mr. Fox 'd lay up for the night, hopin'"he'd got red on 
em. ^But it wouldii'i more 'n come daylight afore 't was 
up an' at it agin Avi' ol Drive foolin' on his track. 
"So Avi' dodgin' runAvays here an' runways there, an' 
tryin' ol' tricks an' new, he come tu be sharp as a sewin' 
awl, an' the cutest chap a-goin'. Lord, haoAv praoud his 
mammy was tu see him foolin' Sam Lovel an' ol' Drive 
day arter day an' then year arter year, till the ol' daAvg 
died an^' a ncAv one come. T'other tCAv cubs Avent off one 
Avay an' 'nother an' many a litter at come arter, an' time 
an' again she Avas left mournin', yet this feller hel' on ju' 
like a Avitch. 
"One day the ol' lady heard haoun's a-runnin', an' 
knoAved by tAvistin' an' turnin' an' gittin' bothered that her 
Crossy Avas a-leadin' on 'em. She cal'lated where he'd 
p'int for tu lay up when he'd got fur 'nough ahead, an' 
mawged off that Avay tu hev a visit. Byme bye the 
haoun's wasn't barkin' oncte in half an hour, an' thinks, 
6 /s she. he's all right, an' then she hear a gun roar in 
tne woods poty near the line he'd come. She listened an' 
'leard someb'dy callin' dawgs an' then nothin' more till 
they bust aout fresh a minute 'an' then shet up as sudden. 
Then her heart misgi'n her. Arter lis'nin' a long spell 
she went on^ again keerful. hopin the best, but at last she 
smelt fox an humern an' dawg all mixt an' come tu some 
blood- an' a bunch o* black an' gray fur, an' seen a karkis 
bar gin' in a crotch, an' then she kncwe<I the pride o' her 
heart was gone. 
"It wan't no use o" tryin' tu escape it; death Avas a layin' 
in AA'ait for her an' her 'n Avhen an' where they Avas least 
expectin* on 't. An' so it come her turn at last, right 
Avhere she'd fooled the haoun's a hundred times, an' wi' 
her dj^in' eyes she seen 't Avas nothin' but a boy 'at done 
it; one 'at she'd thought she could fool any time. Mebi)y 
she thought v.h5' turrible c-=Uurs these men folks was 
