FOREST AND STREAM. 
249 
that point, he rules himself out, and the classification 
is, 1 think, sufficiently well defined. The man who 
loves dog and gun, rod and reel, but finds his sport not 
especially in the act of taking and killing, who finds in- 
spiration in the sweep of the free winds across the 
plains, who catches the melody of the woods and gathers 
the philosophy and vigor of life from the sound of rush- 
ing, rippling waters — he is the sportsman whom we know 
and admire. That he is sometimes misrepresented and 
defamed through impersonation by unworthjf persons does 
not hurt his individual standing nor lower the class, and 
llie interloper, we may be assured, is soon found out 
and placed just where he belongs. 
Let us, therefore, cease borrowing troitble by chasing 
after false gods, being well assured that the sportsman 
will continue to be and to stand for, as in the past, a 
ilarge proportion of that element of mankind which com- 
poses, in the broadest application of the term, "the salt 
■of the earth." Illinois, 
The Parson from Indiana. 
Our planets came into conjunction, so to speak, on the 
train. He introduced himself to us, with a bland smile, as 
a Mr. Small, from somewhere in Indiana. 
"Going hunting?" he inquired, dropping into a seat 
beside us. 
"We are going to try it," Jack replied. 
"Where are you going?" 
"We are thinking of upper Michigan," said Jack, telling 
a lie. 
"Strange," he exclaimed, "but I was thinking of Michi- 
gan m^'self." 
"We were only thinking of Michigan," I hastily in- 
terposed, "I, for one, am in favor of Wisconsin." 
"And I am for Minnesota," Jim chimed in. 
"They all have their strong points," Mr. Small agreed. 
"I hadn't thought of Minnesota, but now that you men- 
tion it, it strikes me as a most desirable country for real 
-^port." 
"You see, wc don't know just where we are going," said 
Jack, desperately. "In fact, we never do know until we 
get there, and even then we are never positivelv certain 
about it." 
Mr. Small was not in the least disconcerted at this am- 
biguous statement. 
"It's truly a delightful state of affairs," said he, and 
his bland smile became blander. "I mean the uncertainty 
t)f the thing. We are in the same boat," and then he 
launched himself into conversalion, and before we had 
known him an hour he had given us a complete history 
of himself and all his family. 
He. was a "Methodist divine," he informed us. and was 
off on a vacation, which he proposed to spend in the 
woods deer hunting. He had no idea of where he was 
going,_nor what he would do when he got there, wherever 
''there" might be. Such trifles he cheerfully left to an all 
wise providence. , 
He evidently considered us instruments of this selfsame 
providence, and grew greatly attached to us — so attached, 
indeed, that we could not shake him off. Jack said that he 
was the reincarnation of "Mary's little Iamb," and that he 
had made a mistake, and took one of us for Mary. 
Perseverance is a great virtue, in its place, and in the 
end the Parson triumphed, and extorted an invitation, or 
more correctly speaking, permission to cast in his lot with 
us. He was deplorably ignorant of everything pertaining 
to the woods, as his first day in camp proved. He told us 
that he had read up very carefully on the subject of 
hunting, and had gleaned many valuable ideas. It w-ill 
only be necessary to mention one of them. 
He had a brand new pair of cowhide boots, warranted 
waterproof. These boots had a squeak of their very own. 
Their maker must have had a patent on that squeak, be- 
cause I have never heard anything exactly like it before 
nor since. You could hear the Parson coming half a 
mile away. When Sooner first heard it But I antici- 
pate. 
He also had, among his numerous belongings, a bottle 
of something called asafoetida. I had never come in con- 
tact with that "vile smelling stuff" before, and I never 
want to again. He explained to us its uses. He said that 
if you rubbed some of it on the soles of your boots it 
would attract the wolves, and they would follow the trail 
forever, or imtil you put a bullet through their heads. He 
only hoped that there were plenty of wolves around, be- 
cause he wanted to bag a lot of them. 
We said nothing, but wfc reveled in the jbkfe that night. 
The next morning he uncorked the bottle, and a change 
came o'er the .spirit of our dreams. He seated himself 
on a log and rubbed some of the stuff on his boots, as per 
directions, preparatory to an assault on the denizens of 
the forest, It struck our olfactory nerves at the same 
time. Wc all .stopped Avork. 
"Do you notice it?" said Jack, turning to me. 
"I most certainly do," I replied. "What can it be?" 
"Give it up. Strange we didn't notice it yesterday." 
Jim said nothing. He merely rose to his feet, and' 
walked around to windward of the Parson, and pointed 
>ignificantly at him. 
The Parson was sitting sideAvise on the log, with the 
bottle held at arm's length from his aver.ted face, and 
his legs stretched as far away from the rest of his body as 
possible. On his countenance there w-as such an expre.s- 
sion of pained .surprise, oyer which disgust was plainly 
struggling for mastery, that the truth immediately flashed 
upon us. 
"Take it away," we shouted in unison. 
_ "For heaven's sake, go bur\' it somewhere," Jack added. 
"It'll drive us out of camp." 
"I had no idea it was like this," the Parson wailed. 
"Dear mt, what shall I do? I've put some of it on mv 
boots." 
"Go take a walk then," said Jack, emphatically. "Go 
down to the lake and Avade around. Go anywhere, only 
don't come back till it's all off. Keep walking around, 
and take the bottle with you' and bury it." 
"Do you suppose the wolves " " 
"Don't stop to talk," Jack interrupted, "or everything 
will reek Avith the stuff." 
"If a wolf got a good whiff of it," Jiin added, "it would 
kill him on the spot. Hurry Up, aTi^ 4on't come back 
imti! vou are deodorir.ed." 
The Parson departed, odor and all, and we did not see 
him again until late in the afternoon. In the meantime 
old Hogarth had walked down to camp to shake hands 
with us. We were camping on his side of the lake that 
trip. He was the same as ever, and time seemed to have 
no effect upon him. 
"How is Sooner?" was one of my first questions. 
"Same's ever," Hogarth replied. "Reck'n he'll be 'long 
purty soon. He started t' come 'long with me, but got 
consarned 'bout a noise he heerd in the bushes, an' left me 
jest t' go an' see. Reck'n he'll be wantin' t' stay over here 
with you, 'cause him an' the old woman ain't on speakin' 
tarms, jest now. She don't onderstand Sooner no more'n 
Sooner onderstands her, an' they don't git on nohow, the 
difrunce bein' that Sooner don't give a cuss, an' the old 
woman gits mad's blazes, an' sw'ars she'll shoot him." 
"What's wrong this time?" I asked. 
"They's no tellin' what 'twas. Mos' likely jest some 
dern foolish bizness. Nuthin' wuth gittin' mad 'bout. 
But Sooner gener'ly fights shy o' the old woman when 
she's in 'er tantrums, seein' he's got sense 'bout some 
things, an' lays low fer a spell. Wish I could do like 
him sometimes." 
Just then the subject of our conversation trotted or, 
more correctly speaking, sauntered into camp. He greeted 
us politely, but without effusion, the same blase old fellow, 
save for the many scars of battle that adorned different 
portions of his anatomy — scars gained in his crusade 
against the neighbors' dogs. He inspected the camp, and 
his attention immediately became centered on the log 
where the Parson had sat. Here was something new — 
something he did not understand — and he looked around 
at us for an explanation. None being forthcoming, he 
followed the Parson's trail a little way, and then gave it 
up and came back and sat down to think about it. 
At that moment an interruption occurred that brought 
both Hogarth and the dog to their feet. A strange creak- 
ing sound broke the stillness of the forest, a sound unlike 
anything they had ever heard before, and growing louder 
and louder every instant. 
The hair rose on Sooner's back, and then he suddenly 
bounded forward to the Parson's log. Evidently he asso- 
ciated the strange sound with the stranger odor. He 
struck the trail, and giving tongue with the full force of 
his powerful voice, disappeared in the direction of the 
lake. The other sound ceased for a moment, only to break 
out afresh with renewed intensity, its even rhythmic beat 
greatly accelerated, accompanied by the thud of heavy 
footfalls. 
"Fer the land .sakes, what on airth kin that be?" ex- 
claimed Hogarth, looking about for a weapon. 
"It must be the Parson,'' I explained. 
"Old asafoetida, sure enough," said Jack. "I had for- 
gotten all about him. He seems to be in a hurry." 
The Parson suddenly emerged from the woods, coming 
on the run, with mighty strides, and looking back over 
his shoulder at every o her step. He sank down beside 
■us exhausted and all out of breath. 
"Where have you been all this time?" asked Jack. 
"I got lost trying to lose that odor," he explained. 
"Did you hear the wolves after me?" 
"Yes. We heard them," said Jack, with a A\'ink at the 
rest of us. "Were they after j'ou?" 
"Yes. They just started up a fcAV minutes ago. No 
telling how long they have been following my trail, though. 
They made an awful noise, and they would have had me 
in short order if I hadn't run." 
He then gave us a vivid account of his experiences dur- 
ing the day. Old Hogarth was one of the most amused 
listeners. 
"Y' needn't be feared o' no wolves," he drawled, when 
the Parson had finished his tale, "s'long's you've got them 
boots on. They'd scare a wolf t' death. They'd scare any 
dorg but Sooner, an' he ain't got sense nuff t' git scared. 
Can't say's I ever heerd jest sech a noise afore. It beats 
me how y' do it." 
The Parson looked slightly embarrassed. 
"I got them pretty wet," he explained, "and that makes 
them squeak more than usual." 
"Seem's so," the old man replied. "They must 'a' bin 
made out o' hog leather, they squeak so. Waal, guess I'll 
be moseyin' 'long home. Sooner'U most likely 'lect t' stay 
here to-night, seein' as he's got t' Avork out the Parson's 
trail. Ef he don't back track he orter be doo some time 
to-night. Waal, s'long. Hope y' git plenty o' Avolves, 
Parson." 
After Hogarth's departure Ave had supper, and the Par- 
son, for one, Avas ready to turn in early that night. 
The Parson's experience cooled his ardor somewhat, 
and for a few days he kept close to camp. This Avas 
considerate of him, as we did not have to hunt so~"far for 
him when he got lost. He Avas never out of our hearing 
when he had his boots on. At the end of a Aveek, though, 
his enthusiasm had returned, and nothing would do but 
that he must have a shot at a deer or a wolf, 
Sooner, strange to relate, had taken a fancy to the 
Parson. I think it Avas because he was glad to associate 
with some one Avho could give him a long start and then 
beat him at doing fool things. But the day came Avhen 
Sooner Avas to regret his choice, and no doubt he Avas 
more cautious thereafter in picking up an acquaintance 
with strangers. 
The Parson determined to go hunting, and to go alone 
with Sooner. We told him that if he lost himself he would 
have to sleep 6ut all night, and keep walking in a circle 
Avith his boots on to scare the Avolves off. He said there 
was no danger, and whistling to the dog. squeaked forth 
in search of big game and glory. 
Sooner was the first to return. We espied him in the 
distance, and his strange behaAnor attracted our at^ntion. 
His usual jaunty air had disappeared, and in its place he 
wore a doAvncast, dejected look, as though life had lost 
half its charms for him. He came and stood before us 
with drooping tail and loAvered head. 
"What is it. Sooner?" said I, stroking his head. 
"What's Avrong, old man?" 
For answ-er he gave me one imploring look, and turned 
in the direction from Avhich he had come, and started 
aAvay, looking back over his shoulder as though he ex- 
pected us to folloAv. \ 
"Something is Avrong." said Jim. "Probably the Par- 
son has been up agains^ ?in4 got hirtiself into trquble 
Let's go see " ■ " ^ / ' ' ^' 
"Sooner must have had a hand in it, then," I remarked, 
"He looks ashamed of himself." 
We followed close behind the dog for a mile or 
two, when Ave suddenly heard faint cries for help in the 
distance. We hurried forward on the run. Sooner still 
leading the way, and the cries growing louder every mo- 
ment. The sound finally led us down into a thick, swampy 
place, and there we found the Parson. 
He was in a serious predicament. He Avas in a quag- 
mire, and had sunk in up to his waist when we arrived 
on the scene. We extricated him with much difficulty, and 
he Avas forced to part company with his boots in the 
operation. We sat arotxnd him, and watched him try to 
scrape the mud off, and list ned to his tale of Avoe. 
"I don't know what you will think of me,"" he began, 
"When I tell you what has occurred." He paused a mo- 
ment in deep thought. "I low much are cows worth 
around here?" he suddenl}^ asked. 
We glanced at one another significantly. We thought 
that his mind was wandering, and to humor him, Jim 
said : 
"Oh, about fifty dollars." It was merely a blind guess. 
"As much as that?" said the Parson, dejectedly. "Hunt- 
ing is apt to prove expensive, isn't it? Well, it might have 
been worse, but I am afraid that I have killed a cow." 
"A coAV?" we all exclaimed, in the same breath. 
"Yes, a cow. It it lying over there in the swamp, near 
the place you found me in. You see, I am unfamiliar 
with the Avoods, and have never seen a deer running wild. 
Well, AA'hen I started out this morning, I had set my heart 
on getting a deer. I think I might have succeeded if I had 
had a good dog. This dog here didn't seem to enter into 
the spirit of the thing. He didn't hunt much. He just 
ran ahead, sort of snifhng around on the ground, but he 
really Avasn't in earnest, I know. I blame him for much 
of this trouble, although I am perfectly willing to take 
my share of the blame, and pay for the cow. 
"It happened like this. We Avere Avalking along in the 
manner I have described, and I was sicking the dog on, 
though he didn't seem to care much about my sicking, 
when suddenly he stopped short and then dashed forAvard 
into the bushes, and commenced barking loudly. I fol- 
lowed him, of course and he led me quite a chase. And 
then, just as Ave reached this swamp here, I saw that he 
was chasing Avhat looked to me like a deer. They weren't 
going very fast, and I managed to get a shot at the animal, 
and brought it to the ground with the third or fourth 
shot. It fell near the spot Avhere you found me, and I 
dashed forward to cut its throat, when I fell into that mud 
hole. 
"As soon as I realized my danger I called to the dog, 
thinking I might send him back to camp Avith a note 
for 3'ou. He came and sat doAvn at a distance, and looked 
at me .and then at the deer. He did this two or three 
times, and then he trotted aAvay and left me. His behavior 
was very strange. 
"My feelings for the next hour beggar description. It 
seemed such a horrible death to die. .1 cotild not see the 
deer very plain— or. alas ! the animal I had shot for a deer, 
for I soon discovered my mistake. It was a cow. The 
discovery added nothing to ray comfort. And then you 
came and rescued mc. But there can be no doubt about 
it. I haA'C killed some one's coav." 
We Avere speechless Avith varying emotions, but man- 
aged to retain a semblance of our customarj'^ decorum. 
Wc then proceeded to examine the carcass of the murdered 
bovine. 
As the Parson had said, there was no doubt about it. 
He had slain a cow. Whose cow it was was the next 
question. Then I remembered that Hogarth owned a feAV 
head of cattle, and the truth dawned upon me. The cow had 
strayed far from home, and Sooner had found her and 
realized that it Avas his duty to escort her safely home 
again. This he had set about doing, and Avas no doubt 
happy over the thought that this Avould square things 
with "the old Avoman," when the Parson had stepped in 
and spoiled everything, and noAV Sooner felt that in some 
way he AA'ould be blamed for the direful deed, hence his 
dejection. 
He had sat with his back turned upon us, during the 
Parson's narration, a silent and unmoved listener to that 
tale of shame. No doubt he felt the disgrace of having 
made himself a Avilling associate of such an ignoramus 
as his companion had proved himself to. be. He still held 
himself aloof, and trailed along behind when we had 
finished our inspection of the carcass and had started back 
to camp. 
"I shall be glad to get these clothes off," the Parson 
remarked as he Avalked stiffly along, strangely silent, with 
respect to his lower extremities, noAV that the boots were • 
resting in their muddy grave. "I feel like a veritable 
'man of clay.' " ' . ' / 
"You certainly look the part to perfection," Jack; - ' 
vouchsafed to rcp\y. ' ' 
As luck Avould have it, when Ave got back to camp we 
found Hogarth there in person. To him Ave unbosomed ■ ' 
ourselves, and although deeply moA-ed by the tale, he 
agreed to break the news to "the old woman," This re- 
moved a great load from our minds, as that was a mis- 
sion none of us cared to perform. We proceeded to liqui- 
date the affairs of the Parson. He paid over forty dollars 
to Hogarth for the cow, and the matter became history — 
oft repeated history, at that, when any of us get to 
reminiscing, as wc sometimes do. ' 
"I'll keep the bosses locked up," 'Hogarth said to me 
in a loud aside, ''tilt the Parson goes. He might shoot 
one of 'em fer a b'ar. Guess the old woman won't be 
much riled, 'cause she had it in fer that caow 'cause the 
dern critter was allers runnin' awaj', an' ef they Avas any 
loggers 'round they ketched 'er an' milked 'er dry, an' ' 
that made the old woman mad. Waal, s'long. I'll go 
squar things t'hum." 
As Ave were lounging around the camp-fire that evening, 
the Parson thus addressed us: "When I was in that ' 
quagmire," said he, "I had ample time for reflection, and 
I came to the conclusion that I Avas not exactly suited 
to this life. I decided that if -I ever got out of that hole 
alive I Avould go back to Indiana and take a rest. A 
f-CAV more such painful experiences Avould make a total 
wreck of me. I think I'll give it up and go home. I'll hire 
Hogarth to drive mc over to the nearest railroad station 
^o-morrow." 
Wp did not try to j:|ii3siia|je him, and Avere eager tg help 
