^68 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
{Aprils, 
CHICAGO ^ND THE WEST. 
I - 
Old Bill Hamilton. 
Mr. A. C. Blum, of Emporium, Pa., writes as below 
regarding old Bill Hamilton, a Western character who 
may be called well known, but not known so well as he 
should be, in view of his past eventful life : 
"For the last two or three years 1 have closely scanned 
the pages of Forest and Stream, and, whenever old-timers 
were mentioned have looked for Bill Hamilton's nante, 
wondering whether the old fellow were alive. Finally, 1 
have been more than rewarded by seeing his name in 
the issue of Feb. 10, as living in a cabin on the Yellow- 
stone under an American ilag. It must certainly feel 
queer to Bill to live under a roof, he who always had a 
tepee for a home. But the Yellowstone Valley is a fitting 
place for him. He certainly is one o£ the original settlers 
of that region, for he traveled up and down this sul- 
phurous stream long before the Botteler brothers estab- 
lished their range near the Bozeman Pass, and thty were 
the first settlers of the Yellowstone Valley, excepting Bill 
Brown, John Dun and a few more boys^ who used to 
'grub stake' at Emigrant Gtilch every winter. After 
them, Friedel, who kept a billiard room in Bozeman, took 
up a range on the Yellowstone, and J think this was in 
1870, aboitt the same time that Hugh Kirlcendall's 
teamsters were killed "by the Indians on the Yellowstone. 
Of course, every one who was in Montana in the early 
sixties remembers Hugh Kirkendall's mule otttfit and 
Capt. Wall and Broadliead's Diamond R. bull train. 
"However, I am getting away from my subject, thinking 
of the old days, when there were neither railroads nor 
fences nor Yellowstone Park guards ; where, in fact, the 
lake, the falls and the wonderful geysers were known to 
but few. 
"I think the last time I met Bill Hamilton was near 
the head of Clark's Fork, where he had pitched his tepee 
and was living a happy life, and I did not think that I 
should ever hear from him twenty years afterward, for 
this happened during the so-called Clark's Fork stampede, 
when we camped near one of the richest silver mines, and 
did not know it, as we were looking for placer mining and 
not for quartz. 
"Will you kindly let me know whether this is the same 
Bill Hamilton? The boys used to say he was a relation 
to the "Dook" of the same name. English he certainly 
was. A typical mountaineer of the old school and a 
squaw man. I think his squaw, or at least one of them, 
was a Piegan. His territory was between Fort Benton 
and the tipper Yellowstone." 
There is no doubt in the world that the old Bill Hamil- 
ton mentioned from time to time in the Forest and 
Stream is no other than Mr. Blum's friend, and it is a 
good reflection that the paper has served so pleasant an 
office as bringing together two friends of the real old 
times. At last accounts old Bill was living still at Colum- 
bus, or Stillv/ater, as it was formerly called, right on the 
banks of one of the most historic streams on earth — the 
Yellowstone River. 
'•Cat Island." 
When Col. Iberville sailed from Canada down to the 
mouth of the Mississippi River in 1699 to take possession 
of that neck of woods for Louis XIV. of France, he 
found near the mouth of the river, or rather near to the 
Pontchartrain and Rigolets discharge of the river, an island 
which he called "Cat Island," because he found it in- 
habited by large numbers of creatures which "were a 
cross between a fox and a cat." Natural history was a 
bit weird in those days, but Iberville did about what folk 
do to-day when they can't locate a species. They call it a 
"cross" on something which they do know. Iberville had 
seen foxes up in Canada, and one might think he had 
seen raccoons. For that, certainlj^ was what he saw, as 
any one who ever visited those low, marshy, sea coast 
regions of lower Louisiana would know at once. Yet 
Chas. Gayarre, in his "History of Louisiana," says: "I 
invite fabulists to inquire into the origin of that grim- 
alkin coloring." Had the learned historian never been 
shooting on the coast? Some years ago, when, with 
friends Foster, of New Orleans; Divine, of Memphis, 
and Organ, of Chicago, I was in camp along the lower 
reaches of the big river, we saw any quantities of raccoons. 
I had not then read so much of the early history of New 
Orleans. I felt a great pride in my explanation of Iber- 
ville's "cats," until recently I saw the same discovery 
made in the pages of a 25-cent guide hook! That sort of 
cheapened my independent researches in natural history. 
The Gun of Xonti. 
Tonti, as every one knows, or ought to know,, was the 
companion of La Salle when he made his first explorations 
along our streams^ — ^the Illinois, the Kankakee and the 
Mississippi. Tonti had only one hand, and his 
missing hand was replaced with an iron hook or hand, 
which was a distinguishing mark. He seems to 
have been a faithful sort of fellow, for when once given 
a letter to deliver to La Salle, who was casually stepping 
over to France, and then returning by way of the mouth 
of the Mississippi, Tonti went by canoe all the way from 
Illinois to the lower Mississippi River, and cruised around 
for eighteen months or so, hunting for La Salle. He 
was a couple of years or so late with the delivery, per- 
haps because there was no special delivery stamp on the 
letter, but he got there eventually. Well, it seems also 
that this same Tonti was a shooter, and he certainly had a 
gun, and a pretty good one — a light, nicely balanced, 
single barrel muzzleloader, with huge flint lock firing 
appliance. This piece, well preserved and showing still 
its original excellence and elegance of workmanship, is 
still in existence, and 3^ou may see it yourself in an 
old antiquarian shop down in New Orleans, where I saw 
it and handled it. They tell one that there is no doubt of 
the authenticity of the gun's history. "Who says there is 
no longer any roniance in the world? It is under our very 
noses! ' ^'Itid 
Madame Begae's. 
If you go to New Orleans, and ye be true sportsmen, go 
to Madame Begue's for breakfast. It is one of the in- 
stitutions of the most delightful city of America — this 
quaint, dirty, historic, aristocratic city of New Orleans. 
We were directed to the Madame's. but thought there 
must be a mistake. We climbed a narrow, crooked stair- 
way at the back of a saloon, and came to what was ap- 
parently a sail loft or a storage room, which was closed 
by a woodeji sliding door. Through a glass paifel we 
saw a long board table, and seated at it were a dozen 
or two persons who all looked highly civilized. Now 
came Madame to see us, saying slic was desolate, but cottld 
we come to-morrow? (One needs to engage his seat the 
day previous.) So to-morrow we were there at 11 A. M., 
which is the regulation hour. Such a breakfast one does 
not find elsewhere on the globe, perhaps. There you 
may become familiar with crawfish, shrimps, snails and 
the like, and afterward you will always love them tenderly. 
None may cook a papaljotte with Madame Begue. None 
may serve so jovially as Madame's fat husband. You 
shall also see large albums of names, and among these are 
some of the most prominent of the country in the ranks 
of art, of literature, of the drama, of statesmanship. 
Madame Begue is not without fame, but fame has not en- 
larged her conceit, or widened her stairway. It is as it 
was at the beginning, and one hopes it ever shall be. Such 
cooker3' in siich: 3iin-oi;mdings is not elesewhere on the 
cartli. - ■ 
A Hole in the Wall. 
.Such, indeed, is old New Orleans, the most fascinating 
of American cities, and the least American. We passed 
along Royal street one Sunday morning, going to the 
Cathedral. On each side of the street was a low row of 
dingy, close-shuttered buildings of a couple of stories 
height, dilapidated, gray, w'orh and weary. They were 
shuttered with boards, and bedaored with planks, so 
that they resembled livery stables (this with no disrespect 
and only with ignorance). Yet, lo! in one of these big 
doors a little door opened, verily a hole in the wall, and 
there stepped out an old, old lady, a lady out of a 
picture book, telling of the days of the ancien regime, a 
very dream of an old, sweet lady ; and by her side, stepping 
high and light as a wild deer, was a glorious young girl, 
daintily clad and fair as flower. What a picture, and 
out of what a setting ! You see, it is not at first that you 
know all that is behind those close-shut Creole doors, 
where live families who never go to busy Canal street, the 
center of the modern, commercial town. They live here, 
in the old French quarter, as they always did and always 
will, so long as they live at all. If you seek a real 
aristocracy, go to New Orleans. It may appear to you 
from some hole in the wall, and set you wondering. 
The Cardinal Bifd. 
A flash of incredible color, a ray of flame, the cardinal 
bird crosses the gray and brown picture of the Southern 
woods and fields. He hangs upon some tree, poises upon 
some brier bush, then flits to the nearest thicket. Al- 
ways he is in the center of the stage, and your eye may 
not leave him. Beneath the cover cowers the rabbit, and 
you do not see it. On the stubble huddle close the quail, 
and you do dream that they are there. All about are the 
timid twitterings of gray or brown or besmirched birds 
whose coats conceal them, blending as they do with the 
color of their little world. Alone, above them, defiant, 
reckless, bold, a cavalier, an anachronism, flits the car- 
dinal, scorning the death for which he is marked. He 
asks no protection and knows not timorousness, but gayly 
goes on through life while it lasts, light of heart, light 
of wing, blithe, inspiring, above the rabble of common 
things. 
Singing Mouse No. iZ. 
Mr. Wilmot Townsend, of Bay Ridge, N. J., writes 
very entertainingly regarding a singing mouse which once 
was a member of his family. This I believe makes No. 18 
in the series which I have been compiling in the Forest 
AND Stream records. 
"Some eight years ago our little cottage was overrun 
one winter with mice. They grew very familiar with us 
as we used to sit by our open wood fire after the 
youngsters were tucked in bed, and though quite as 
much in dread of mice as the rest oi her sex, my wife 
grew somewhat accustomed to their presence and ceased 
to grow nervous at their erratic scampering about the 
fireplace, and the ceaseless rustle of papers in the scrap 
basket. (Why is it that mice so delight to rattle paper 
about?) One evening a quivering nose poked itself into 
view over the edge of the basket and presently a mouse 
followed the nose and scrambled into sight. I saw at 
once a difference in his make up, as compared with our 
other every day mice, and called my partner's attention. 
He was a trim fellow, more slender, more rangey, so to 
speak, with a thoroughbred look to him. After a short 
toilet he sat up just as a rabbit will, with forepaws droop- 
ing, seemed to give a quick little glance about, and to my 
surprise and delight commenced trilling, a quiet little purr 
of sottnd at first, growing more distiact' and shriller and 
accompanied by a raising of the head till the climax was 
reached and held for a second or so, then the little head 
dropped and the trill was finished mtich as it began, not 
suddenly, rather dying away gradually, the whole per- 
fortnance lasting, say, half a minute. At the height of 
his vocalizing, while his head was raised, we distinctly 
saw the tremor of the little throat. Twice he trilled for 
us, and then slipped back to rummage among the waste 
paper. I saw that just previous to his sitting up he 
lapped his tail down over the basket edge each time, as 
though to secure an extra purchase before singing. I 
say singing, but it seems to me that is hardly the. proper 
word. 'Twas more of a cozy little trill, a comfortable 
little noise, just made to voice his happiness. For a week 
we heard him off and on about the house, when all was 
quiet ; once in our bedroom. We never saw him again. 
'Twas a cozy little tune he sang, and I was sorry when, 
it finally ceased for good." 
Ice Going Out with a Rush. 
For several days the waters have been open in this 
.region. The Kankakee broke bounds last Friday morn- 
ing and ran clear of ice by noon of that day. the river 
being quite open from Water Valley twenty miles- up and 
down stream by Saturday morning. The shooters who 
were on the river the first three days after that had good 
shooting, for the country was full of ducks. Mr. W. P. 
Mussey, who was on the Kankakee for three days waiting 
for the ice to move, says he has rarely se^n more birds 
than were in then. He had to come home just at the time 
the shooting was beginning, and so did not get much of 
a bag. Bill Haskell, who was at. the Maksawba Club at 
the same time, and who stayed over a few days longer, 
sent up 46 birds, which it took him two or more days to 
kill. He has not been heard from since, and is no doubt 
getting good sport right along. Mr. L. R. Brown is 
expected to go dow;d to the same club to-night, as also 
Mr. Jesse Sherwood, and as the water is now open all 
over both river and marsh, these should strike it about 
right. 
The ice has been very heavy this spring, and though 
the water has been very high, the streams have not run 
free till this week in the upper part of the States of In- 
diana and Illinois. Lower down, at the upper 'Dosia 
marsh and the lower "Dosia, the waters have been open 
for some time, and it is from those districts that I hear of 
the heaviest bags. Joel Kinney, who went back there 
after the safe, got the safe. He had very good sport in- 
deed, though not working very hard. 
The biggest bags of which I have heard are those of 
Dr. LIunt, of this city, to which I have referred less 
definitely as large ones. It is now known that Dr. Hunt 
bagged 700 birds, mostly sprigs, mallards and redheads. 
He took away 3,000 shells, and sent back for more. He 
says that if he had not had his brother along with him 
he could have killed 2,000 birds very easily. Flis brother 
was newer at the game, got excited and would stand up 
in the boat and do other unprofessional things, There 
would appear to be room for a mild regret that Dr. Hunt 
did not have more of his family along, and perhaps he 
can worry along with the 700 ducks. 
Messrs. W. L. Wells and Edward Pope, who left last 
week for a try at the birds on Fox Lake, came back the 
middle of this week somewhat cast down. The ice had at 
that time not yet stirred, and the day before they left they 
walked two miles across the big lake on the ice. They 
saw but very few birds, naturally, and got next to noth- 
ing, but seem to have had a good time notwithstanding. 
They report our old-time friend Ed Howard just as 
game as every and doing well at the old stand. 
Mr. C. C. Hess is another of the Chicago shooters to 
brave the ice and cold of gentle spring along the Kanka- 
kee this past week. In fact, he goes down to Lorenzo, on 
the Kankakee, each week. His last trip, early this week, 
netted him eighteen ducks. He should have much better 
shooting this time, and unless he goes East and misses 
his shoot this week, we shall no doubt hear of a bag, as 
he has a bit of good marsh hid out in there. 
Water Valley is the popular point on the Kankakee for 
the men who have no club membership, and it show« as 
good a strip of river as any, though of course mucl' 's- 
ited. It is a pretty big country, that marsh between 
Shelby and Fuller's Island, and will hold without crowd- 
ing a big number of guns. The old Lake George Club 
and the cottagers adjoining do not have grounds of con- 
sequence, but rely upon the open shooting, as does Diana 
Club, across the bridge near by. A number of shooters 
have been watching and waiting all along in there for 
three weeks this spring, but not until this week would 
they be apt to get the best of the flight. Sometimes they 
have very fair duck shooting in that same section as early 
as Feb. 14, a very good time, indeed, some years, to catch 
the early flight; but here it is six weeks later than that. 
Now that the mild weather has begun, spring is apt to 
come with a rush. 
Snipe Grounds. 
Already some of the knowing ones arc prospecting for 
their spring snipe grounds. One careful shooter is writ- 
ing to Warsaw, Koutts and other good localities, asking 
the earliest wire announcing arrival of the birds. The 
extreme headwaters of the Kankakee, near South Bend, 
are often very good tips on snipe in the spring, and I have 
sometimes had fair shooting in the fall a little lower down 
in that same chain. 
One of the less known snipe regions accessible from 
Chicago is that big strip of high, warm prairie that lies 
immediately west of Chicago, between the Summit and 
Sag country and the north edge of Chicago, reaching as 
far west as the Fox River. Here the hills are separated 
bv sloughs still undrained, which offer a few acres here 
and there of grand bog for snipe. There is no one very 
large patch of ground in this strip, but one can drive 
across this high land as far west as the Fox, and it ought 
to prove out very well. I have sometimes found nice 
sport out at Arlington Heights, right in the northwest 
corner of the city, and the country looked good on west 
and northwest as far as I could see. There are some 
golden plover in there also in late April. There is every 
likelihood that we shall have a fine crop of snipe in this 
section this spring, just as we are having an extremely 
good duck season; but the trouble, if any, with the snipe 
outlook is that there will be so wide an extent of wet 
ground that the birds will be greatly scattered and hard 
to locate. At the western edge of this Chicago snipe 
groimd, some eight or ten miles from Elgin, there is some 
very good snipe marsh, and several acquaintances have 
their eyes fixed on this for an early try for , the long- 
bills. 
Thousands. 
In summary, our snipe season is still a guess. Our 
duck season is extraordinarily good. Nearly every man 
who is accosted as to the birds he has seen when out this 
spring answers, "There are thousands of them." Whether 
the thousands will last long or rapidly pass north as the 
ice goes out remains to be seen, but from all accounts it 
would seem that the coming week will be the best one. 
Fox Lake should be open then, all the rivers and some 
of the lakes of Wisconsin, such as Koshkonong, the lat- 
ter usually a late riser in our ducking possibilities. 
E. Hough. 
300 BoYCE Building, Chicago, 111. 
Maine Snows. 
BosTwr, March 29. — ;The Maine papers have many ac- 
counts of the suffering of game birds and animals from 
the deep snows and bad crusts of late in the winter. A 
couple of trappers are reported to have recently come in 
to Kineo, Moosehead, from their winter trapping at Har- 
rington Lake. They had $75 worth of furs. They saw 
few deer, though their tracks were very plenty. They 
located one or two moose yards, and found a big bull 
