April 28, 1900.] 
FOREST AND STREAM 
829 
there, the day o£ the lumbermen is done so far. as this 
public property is concerned. The only strange thing is 
that there should be any pause or hesitation about telling 
these lumbermen that they must not take what is not 
theirs. Thus far it has been a magnificent theft._ It has 
given the Indians five cents an acre for their pine, and 
cost ninety-five cents to get the five cents to them. 
Valae of the Loaisiana Purchase. 
I see from a C, B. & Q. Railway" folder at hand to- 
day that the cost per acre to the United States in the 
Louisiana purchase was about two and one-half cents per 
acre. That is about what the Indians are still getting 
for it. Certain lumbermen pay about $100,000 for pine 
lands from which they have been cutting pine (on the 
Red Lake reservation), worth on the market at low valua- 
tion one and one-half millions of dollars. I would rather 
be a lumber thief than an Indian under this Government, 
E. Hough. 
30O BoYCE Building, Chicago, 111. 
Florida Quail. 
Brooklyn. — Up to this winter I never had killed a 
quail. Although I had gone to places near New York 
city time after time and tried my hand, I always found 
birds scarce and got few shots, so that it seemed absolutely 
imnossible for me to learn to hold on to a quail when I 
did get a chance. Not discouraged, however, I decided 
last February to visit Florida, and very fortunately was 
recommended to a place where I found grand shooting. 
I don't believe there is a place in the United States where 
there are more quail than where I was. We got up any- 
where from fifteen to thirty coveys a day, and big full 
coveys too. 
It is all open shooting down there. The people hunt 
from a wagon, and you can drive right through the woods 
anywhere. They use wide ranging dogs, as one can see 
so far, the ground being practically free from under- 
brush. We got up covey after covey so fast that I soon 
"caught on." and before the trip was over was able to get 
my share of birds. 
One place in particular, called the Hurricane, seemed 
alive with quail, and I actually kept my gun barrels hot, 
so fast did the birds get up. It was here I learned to 
shoot, and I will certainly never forget that place. 
I was at Lake Ogden, about sixty miles west of Jackson- 
ville. The shooting- there is mostly controlled by Giles 
Tompkins, of Lake Ogden. with whom sportsmen stop- 
Any further information can be obtained by addressing 
him. There is room for a number of sportsmen there 
yet. Some places have never been hunted as yet. Old 
Pop Tomokins has some fine dogs and a good team and 
surrey. All hunting is done from the wagon, and when 
the dogs point yon get out, go over and scare up your 
birds, shoot into them and then either go for the sinsrle 
birds or go back to the wagon and drive on till you strike 
another covey. Down South thev usually hunt coveys 
and do not mind the scattered birds, although I think 
that with a close ranging dog that will drop to shot, the 
single-bird shooting is the grandest sport of all. 
I have often received good points from Forest and 
Stream, and if this note will put anv brother snortsman 
in the way of getting the best of quail shooting. I shall be 
glad. L. L. 
Djf. John T, Stetson. 
5 Park Square, Boston, April 19. — Editor Forest and 
Stream: It seems to me very proper and desirable that 
mention should be made in your -paper of the great loss 
sustained by the Massachusetts Fish and Game Protective 
Association in the death of one of its Vice-Presidents, Dr. 
John T. Stetson. He was among the early members, and 
for more than twenty years had held some important office 
in the Association, for the greater part of the time that of 
"Vice-President. On more than one occasion he was re- 
quested to take the Presidency, and was once elected to 
that office, but his modesty was such that he declined to 
accept the responsibility. 
The Association never had a more faithful servant, or a 
more devoted and self-sacrificing friend. 
It was among our members he numbered most of his 
bosom friends, and many times in presence of the writer 
and Dthers he has declared that he had derived more en- 
joyment from the associations there formed than from 
those of any other organization with which he had been 
connected. Whenever a meeting of the Board of Man- 
agem.ent or of the Association was called, unless he was 
out of the city he was sure to attend. He was an ardent 
lover of the allurements of the forest and the stream, and 
until within the last year or two was accustomed to make 
an annual pilgrimage to the North Woods of Maine. 
The pleasant memories of the many trips it has been 
my pleasure to take with the genial doctor are in- 
delibly impressed upon memory's walls, and even "time's 
effacing fingers" will not obliterate them so long as life 
shall last. Henry H. Kimball, Sec'y, 
The Massachusetts Game Bill. 
5 Park S.quaSe, Boston, April 23.— Editor Forest and 
Stream:' In my letter of April 12 I spoke of the valuable 
services of Representative Harry D. Hunt, of North Attle- 
boro. T have not' been able to secure a copy of his speech 
in favor of our'.bill entire. Some of the points he made 
against- Representative Mills' amendment to prohibit 
shooting of woodcock, quail and partridges for three 
years were that such restriction was unnecessary and not 
likely to accomplish the results expected; that as the 
State is not surrounded wholly by water, it would be im- 
possible to keep out shooters from across our borders, and 
at the expiration of three years, in case the birds became 
.abundant, a horde of hunters would rush in and in a 
very s^iprt time ' vvould kill off - all the birds; that such 
prohibition would be greatly to the disadvantage of the 
laboring man whose means are not sufficient to admit of 
his going out of the State for such recreation as could be 
provided by Massachusetts covers if market-hunting could 
be stopped. Incidentally, he said that, inasmuch as he had 
not had the advantages of ministerial learning hke the 
member from Newburyport, he could not be expected to 
be conversant with the style of controversy adopted by 
that gentleman, and that the sportsmen of the State with 
whom he had become acquainted did not belong to a class 
of men that needed any vindication from men like the 
clergyman from Newburyport. 
He called attention of members to the character of the 
organizations represented in the convention called by the 
Massachusetts Fish and Game Protective Association last 
December, and enumerated some of them, as the Massa- 
chusetts Board of Trade, Massachusetts Forestry Associa- 
tion, Board of Agriculture, Board of Education, agri- 
cultural societies and farmers' and sportsmen's clubs, num- 
bering in all more than forty, and representing every 
county and most of- the chief cities of the State. The 
Mills amendment was rejected by an overwhelming rna- 
jority, and an amendment offered by Representative 
Haskell of Beverly to change the date of opening the 
shooting season from Oct. 10 to Oct. 1 was passed by a 
vote of 63 to 31. 
The bill was then ordered to the second reading without 
a call for a verification of the vote. That is the position 
of our bill at present, and we expect it will take its third 
reading and engrossment in a few days. 
At all events, your readers may expect to hear further 
accounts of whatever may occur of interest in or about 
"The Hub." Henry H. Kimball, Sec'y. 
A Trip Into Southern Oregon. 
My daddy left me gear enough: 
A couter, and an auld beam plow; 
A nebbed staff, a nutting tyne, 
A fishing wand with hook and line; 
With twa auld stools and a dirt house, 
A jerkenet, scarce worth a louse, 
An auld pat, that wants a lug, 
A spurtle and a sowen mug. 
—Willie Winkle's Testament. 
Were it not that our daddies leave some of us "a fish- 
ing wand, with hook and line," or an inherited love of 
them, how much richer many of us would be in worldly 
gear; but oh, how much poorer in that which goes to 
make us happier and better men! 
My good old daddy gave me' my first "fishing wand, 
with hook and line," nearly halt a century ago, and my 
granddaddy gave me my first lessons in its use, and 
thereby no doubt I was doomed to some loss of riches, 
but to the gain of health and pleasure. God bless them 
both for the same! I pity the soul with chords so un- 
attuned that they fail to vibrate when fishing is mentioned. 
Show me the man who loves to fish (mind you, "to fish," 
and not alone to catch fish) and I will show you a man 
of kindly nature, and with warm friends, though, per- 
chance, not many of them. He may be poor in worldly 
wealth, but he is rich in pleasurable, peaceful and inno- 
cent experiences — experiences that bring no sting to 
memory; that bring no sigh of regret or blush of shame 
at their recollection. You see, I classify those who love 
to fish apart from those who love to catch fish. The 
former are alive to everything that appeals to contem- 
plative minds. The ripple and gurgle of the stream, the 
rustle of the grasses by the water side, the sigh of the 
pines, the play of the lights and shadows — all these, and 
a thousand other trifles, give pleasure to the one who 
loves to fish. He is not alone dependent upon the thrill 
imparted by the fighting fish, although he enjoys that 
also. And I have noticed that the man who loves to 
fish generally catches his share. 
But there are those who love to catch fish, who see 
none of these things, and who if they do not come back 
with full creels are sour and disappointed, and seem 
to have no pleasant recollection to repay their loss of 
time. As my tale unwinds j-ou will be introduced to one 
such, who introduced a note of discord among an other- 
wise happy party of anglers. 
No doubt had I not learned to fish I would either have 
been a richer man, or dead, both of which I have got 
along without very comfortably thus far, and still hope to 
till I fall hke the leaf in the autimin of my years. As 
I have before said in these columns (vide an account of a 
trip to the McLoud River), I never let a fishing trip wait 
on opportunity, but when the chance comes I embrace it 
and let poor opportunity go hang. Therefore it came 
about that in the last days of July, when these words came 
to me over the telephone from my old fishing partner and 
friend, B., "Meet me at the club on Saturday night; I 
have a fishing trip planned," I at once answered: "All 
right, old man; I'll be there." According to agree- 
ment, we m^et on the appointed evening, and after our first 
greeting this is what he shot at me: 
"Old man, I've got the finest trip planned that we have 
ever had together during our outings of sixteen years." 
"Well, well; no preliminaries, but tell me at once 
where it is." 
"It's Pelican Bay, in Oregon." 
"P&lican nothing! You know I don't care for salt- 
water fishing, and neither do you." 
"But that is where you are jumping at a conclusion 
too quickly, owing to a pre-existing association of ideas 
in your head. This is no salt-water trip. I allude to 
Pelican Bay on . Upper Klamath Lake, in southern 
Oregon." 
"Why, B.. that lake, according to all accounts, is no 
good for fishing, as the water is impure in summer." 
"Just read that railway folder," said he, "and you will 
know as much about it as I do!" 
He handed me the folder, and of all the glowing- and 
fascinating accounts of a sporting country I ever read 
that beat them all. 
It was a warm number, and no mistake. So hot was it 
that my mind became at once inflamed. Never before 
have I seen such a procession of game and fish walk and 
swim across such an innocent-looking folder. Bear, 
deer, grouse (two varieties), quail, geese, ducks (all 
varieties) and snipe were there, waiting patiently for the 
coming gunner, while 2S-pcund trout were lying in wait 
with gaping mouths, impatiently looking for artificial 
flies, while the natural insect was passed with contempt. 
All of this seeded Just a trifle unnatural, but was so 
well told that by the time I had reached the end I was all 
on fire. This was just the place I had been looking for 
all my life, and at last, behold the Mecca of my hopes! 
Then and there the trip was planned, and on the night 
of Aug. 15 my comrade and myself started on the 
Oregon express with high hopes of a pleasurable outing. 
Away and away, in the hot August night, northward over 
the great Sacramento Valley, morning finds us at the gate 
of the mountains. Up through the carion of the Sacra- 
mento River we go almost to its very source, crossing 
and recrossing it a bewildering number of times, and 
following its windings to every point of the compass. It 
is a wonder the engineers do not get dizzy and fall out 
of their cabs, with trying to follow the windings of the 
road. Some of the curves are so abrupt that the engine 
scarcely misses the rear car on the turn. At least, that 
is the way it seems to the passenger. The path to sweet 
Rosamond's bower was not in it with the track of the C. 
& O. line. Finally we leave the cafion and climb the 
.shoulders of grand old Shasta, whose noble head, covered 
with eternal snow, poises itself above the surrounding 
peaks, and dominates the landscape. 
Past Black Butte, or Muir's Peak, we go, a great 
isloated pinnacle of volcanic rock, with five distinct 
craters on its almost unscalable summit. ^ Then on 
through Shasta Valley, a rich cattle country, till we begin 
to climb the main range of the Siskiyous, which we cross 
with many more twistings and turnings, and crossing 
of dangerous looking trestles, and diving through tun- 
nels, until at last we emerge through one of the last to 
welcome the sight of the panorama stretched out before 
us, as we gaze down into the head of Rogue River Valley 
and know that our journey is near its end. Here again 
we twist and turn to get down to the level of the valley 
below us, until one gets seasick on dry land trying to 
keep one's bearings. At last late in the afternoon we 
reach Ashland, the termination of our journey by rail. 
This is a lovely little town, lying on the western slope of 
the valley, and here we take stage in the morning for 
Pelican Bay. 
Previous to leaving our own State we had been having 
some unusually cool and cloudy weather, but up here it 
had been raining and was threatening more. So after 
supper we went out to purchase a mackintosh each to 
protect ourselves next day, as the stage was to be an 
open affair, with nothing to keep off the rain. 
As we sauntered down the street toward the business 
part of the town, we came first to a drug store. Now, I 
always have some reason for entering one of these, so 
in we went. A neat, dapper little woman came forward to 
wait on me, and after leaving we saw by the label on our 
purchase that she was owner, clerk and all, in her own 
person. A little further down we entered a hardware 
store for some trifle, and another engaging female came 
forward to wait upon us. Next we entered a dry goods 
house to seek our mackintoshes, and still another enticing 
fairy in petticoats came forward, and in answer to our 
inquiries regretfully informed us that there were none 
in their stock at present, but that if we could wait a few 
weeks for a consignment of goods that was ordered from 
the East we could have our wants attended to. ' My friend 
looked as though he wanted to sit right down to wait for 
them, but I roused him from his dream, and sought 
further. A little way down the street we entered an- 
other establishment, and oh, dear! another _ sweet 
charmer came forward — and the others were not in it! 
Yes, she had "oodles" of mackintoshes for sale, but they 
were put away on the high shelves for the summer, and 
she would have to get a step-ladder to reach them. B., 
with his usual gallantry, jumped forward and got the 
ladder from her fair hands and saved her blushes by 
climbing it himself. In fact, I think he would have at- 
tempted to climb a rope, go down a bannister or chase a 
rainbow had she asked any one of those favors of hirn, . 
The coats were brought down, and I was soon fitted, but 
his needed man}^ smoothings, pulls and pats at the hands 
of the fair saleswoman before it would fit. At last I 
pulled him regretfully away, and as we reached the side- 
walk he turned to me and said: "This town is good 
enough for me; I'm going to come and live in Ashland," 
Oh, the sly old fox! He still has an eye for beauty, 
although at his time of life he should keep it fixed on the 
Star of Bethlehem. 
It rained during the night, and morning came with 
lowering clouds and a chill air. The "stage" consisted 
of two double-seated express wagons, drawn by a span 
of horses each. There were four passengers, besides the 
two drivers and the baggage, which seemed a light load 
for four strong horses. We were destined to think other- 
wise before night. 
Our driver was a case of organized rheumatism, with 
Star tobacco as a motive power. Away we started for 
our fifty-mile drive, which we expected to make in about 
ten hours, including stoppages, but which lengthened 
out into fifteen. The first four or five miles went very 
well till we crossed to the eastern side of the valley and 
began a long ten-mile ascent to the summit of the Cas- 
cades. Here we found a fearfully sticky adobe soil, rain- 
soaked from the previous night's downpour. Then our 
troubles began. The horses began to ball up and slip; 
the wheels became solid revolving masses of mud that 
could only be gotten rid of by the use of an axe. One 
after another of the passengers had to resort to riding 
Shanks' mare, as the horses could barely pull the wagons 
with the baggage. We did not have to "walk and carry 
a rail," but did have to carry sticks to punch the soil off 
the feet; otherwise there would soon be a mass several 
pounds in weight hanging at the end of each leg. Oh, 
it was a picnic. 
Had it been a fair day with good roads the drive • 
would have been a delightful one, as from many points' 
the views are very fine, as we found on our return trip. 
At about midday we reached the summit three hours be- 
hind time. Then began the descent on the eastern slope, 
'which was rough, but free from adobe, until Dead In- 
dian Praiie was reached. Of course this name excited my 
interest, and I asked the driver to give me- its origin' i'f f 
he could do so. Between energetic ruminations of his 
beloved Star, I finally got the following: 
In the early days of the Rogue River settlement, a 
band of Klamath Indians came over the Cascades on the 
route we were now traveling and raided the farms of the 
settlers, driving off all the stock in the valley. "The white 
men organized a pursm"ng party -with such celerity that 
they overtook the thieves in this prairie and soon re- 
