488 
FOREST AND ; /£> rREAM. 
[Dec, 22, 1900, 
Old Hogarth. 
"Teix you somethin' 'bout myself?" Old Hogarth 
drawled, in answer to my request. "Reck'n they amt 
much what y'might call edefyin' wuth tellm' bout.^ Jest 
wait till I git this blame pipe a-goin' ; its wmd pipe s out 
o' kilter ag'in, an' I'll try t' think o' somethin'." 
It was a glorious night— the kind of a night that 
makes you forget all the disagreeable ones that have gone 
before ; the kind that you like to talk about when you get 
back to civilization and tell "the boys" what a good time 
you have had, and the kind you think about while grinding 
away at your desk down town, when, for a moment, you 
pause and let your thoughts wander away from the cease- 
less worries of money getting, and the black rows of fig- 
ures in which the worshipers of Mammon write the 
never ending history of their lives of care and toil and 
slavery. 
. How often the scene comes back to me. I tilt my chair 
back with my pen between my teeth in lieu of the beloved 
briar, and the picture passes like a swift fleeting thought 
before my mind's eye, and leaves a restful feeling behind 
in the passing. r .,• ^ • j j 
The camp-fire, the hunter s never failing friend and 
comforter, blazing merrily, where, amid the glowmg em- 
bers, your fancy paints wonderful pictures. Not the pic- 
tures you see in your fireplace at home. That fireplace is 
merely an imitation, a fast fading relic of other days long 
since past, when men dwelt in close communion with na- 
ture and were happy. There is no fire in the world like 
a camp-fire. It is so much more sociable and has so much 
more character and individuality about it than the close 
confined, puny grate fire of the modern home. (Is there 
anything more shoddy, more deserving of contempt than 
one of these 10 by 12 holes in the wall with its accom- 
panying gas log?) It has the freedom from restraint, the 
magic touch, that belongs to nature, in her wild, un- 
trammeled state, and to her alone. 
This particular camp-fire of which I write was an ideal 
camp-fire. Without the circle of its cheerful glow the 
woods showed vast and "dark as the shades of Erebus" 
by contrast. From out the encircling darkness came 
those wonted, mysterious night sounds of a big forest— 
the faint rustle and scurrying of some small animal, or the 
snapping of a twig, betraying the presence of some heavier 
prowler of the night, and causing one to glance half- 
curious, half-expectant in the direction of the sound, and 
then deep silence again, savo for the whispering and 
soughing of the wind in the tall trees towering above us 
as it softly breathed in the ear the saddest and yet most 
soothing music in all the world, the music of the pines. 
Far above the pines the man in the moon was doing his 
best to find out what was happening down here in the 
darkness he could not penetrate. Here and there a soft 
shimmering ray of light stole down through the thick 
foliage overhead, as though half-afraid, and after lighting 
up some portion of tlie deep gloom for a brief moment, 
suddenly vanished, like the puffing out of a candle's light. 
Nearby, between the intervening trees, we could catch 
a glimpse of the beautiful lake, calm as the night, with- 
out a ripple on its surface, on whose quiet bosom the 
moonlight slumbered peacefully, and from somewhere 
across the lake came a far distant mournful sound, the 
voice of a dog baying at the moon. 
The cloud of smoke encircling Hogarth's head an- 
nounced that the pipe was in working order again, and 
that our "guide and philosopher" of the woods was ready 
to begin his story, so we made ourselves comfortable and 
prepared to listen. . 
"As I was jest say in'," he began in the slow, easy 
drawl that seemed to fit in so well with all our surround- 
ings, "I reck'n they ain't much wuth tellin' 'bout when it 
comes t' my doin's. They's bin no end o' cur'ous things 
happined t'me, oflE'n on, sence I was a kid back in Ver- 
mount. Y'know I was raised back thar, but it's nigh on t' 
forty years sence I left the folks an' come out West 
a-seekin' my fortune. 
"They was a hull passel of us kids t' hum, an' it kept 
the old man hustlin' t' find grub fer the lot, so when I 
gdh t' be 'bout sixteen or thar'bouts, I sez t' myself one 
day: 'What's the use foolin' 'round these yere parts 
when they's a heap o' room fer a feller out West whar 
they's somethin' doin'? Guess I'll light out fer the West,' 
sez I. so I lit. 
"Reck'n the old man warn't sorry much t' see me go, 
'cause he had more'n his hands full with the rest the 
family, they bein' mostly gals. Waal, I jest drifted 'long 
an' drifted 'long, onsettled like, waitin" fer somethin' t' 
turn up. I warn't much fer size in them days. I ain't 
zactly what y'might call enormous now, but I warn't 
more'n skin an' bones then. How-some-ever, I made up 
in grit an' sass what I was shy on size, an' so I got on 
fair t' middlin'. 
"This part the kentry warn't much settled in them 
days. _ They was nuthin' but loggers an' Injuns 'round 
an' critters o' one kind an' another. Gosh, but the deer 
was thick, 'speshuUy 'round the lake here. I struck a 
job with a loggin' crew, an' come up nor'.h t' Green Bay. 
I liked the job from the start off, I liked the woods, an' I 
liked the excitin' times. You didn't have t' hunt far fer 
trouble, I kin tell you. 'Twas jest naterly hangin' 'round 
loose waitin' t' be stirred up. 
"The men were purty rough, but when I got used to 
em I hked 'em well nuff. Barrin' ther' cussin', what was 
somethin' 'stonishin', they done it so easy like they warn't 
haff bad. 'Twas jest as well t' keep out the'r way when 
they got on a big drunk, which same they done onct a 
year, reg'lar. in the spring. Men do foolish things, most- 
ly, the hull_ time, but gittin' drunk an' raisin' the devil 
gener'ly, an' blowin in all yer hard earned money in one 
niore. arter a bit I give up loggin' entire, an' took t' hunt- 
in' an trappin', an' I made a right smart sum o' money 
at the business, an' was tol'ably happy. I sorter liked it 
'round Noqucbay here, an' I built me a shanty, right whar 
I'm livui' now, an' warn't askin' no odds o' nobody 
h'goslu 
"Waal, one day 'long iri the summer I thought I'd go 
aown e Pfeshtigo £er some Bupplifce, Peshti^ was only ^ 
big loggin' camp then, an' they was no railroad thar. 
Folks was beginnin' t' drift in thar gradual, an' they was 
bull din' a saw mill, an' they was a few wimmin thar, too, 
makin' trouble 'mong the men folks the way they allers 
does. I hadn't thought none 'bout gittin' married, 'cause 
wimmin was somethin' I didn't take much stock in. I 
warn't onto the'r ways, an' barrin' my mother an' the 
gals t' hum, I'd never had no dealin's with 'em, nohow, an' 
warn't lookin' fer none. An' so the day I went t' Peshtigo 
wimmin was the last thing I was a-thinkin' 'bout. It jest 
goes t' show a man never knows what's goin' t' happin 
when they's any of 'em 'round. 
" 'Bout haff a mile this side o' Peshtigo as I was walk- 
in' 'long thinkin' 'bout nuthin' in partic'lar, 'cept how 
purty the woods was, all to onct I got the doggondest 
s'prise I ever had in my hull life. I heard the most awful 
screeches comin' from the bushes to the right o' me. 
Skeered? Waal, that don't begin t' tell it. It didn't 
sound like no critter. Sounded some like a painter, but 
I knowed 'twan't no sech beast. I never thought 'bout it 
bein' a woman till I heerd a cry of, 'Help ! Help 1' an' that 
sorter brung me t' my senses^ an' I sailed in t' find out 
what was up. 
"I 'most run plum into her afore I seed her. She was 
runnin' fer dear life right toward me, an' behind her, not 
more'n 40 feet away, was a whoppin' big she b'ar, mad as 
blazes, an' with blood in her eye, chargin' arter the gal 
an' gainin' at every jump. 'Twould have bin all up with 
that gal in no time ef I hadn't happined 'long jest then. 
All to onct she stubbed her toe an' fell flat. She landed 
'most at my feet, an' lay thar on the ground, moanin'. 
"I didn't wait t' say good mornin' t' that b'ar or ask ef 
she was willin', but I up with my rifle an' let her have it 
squar' in front. My rifle warn't no repeater, an' it was 
that shot or none. The b'ar rolled over all in a heap, an' I 
jumped for'ard t' finish the business, when she riz up an' 
come wobblin' right toward the gal. I jest had time t' git 
in front the gal as the b'ar come in reach, an' I seed 'twa.s 
a fight to a finish. 
"The old she devil was hurt bad, but she had nuff 
strength left t' put up a derned ugly fight, which same 
she set 'bout a-doin'. I clubbed my rifle an' made a 
swipe at 'er. Wlien it come t' swipin' I warn't nowhar, 
'cause she made a swipe at the same minit, an' my gun 
went sailin' away in the bushes. Then I drawed my 
knife, an' we stood lookin' straight in each other's eyes fer 
most a hull minit afore anythin' was did, an' then she 
made a rush fer me. 
"They was no other way out the muddle, so I closed 
with the critter an' druv the knife up to the hilt in 'er 
side. I had 'er by the throat, an' that bothered 'er some 
'cause she couldn't do much with 'er teeth, but the way 
she could use them claws o' hern was wuth considerin', 
b'gosh. She tore my shirt off in one yank, likewise a con- 
sid'able part o' my hide 'long with it. 
"My right arm was free, an' I let 'er have the knife 
a-plenty 's well 's I could. But I couldn't strike the right 
spot, an' I begun t' think 'twarn't no use, an' that my 
huntin' days was 'bout t' come to a sudden end. 'Twas 
some comfortin' t' know the b'ar wouldn't last no 
longer-'n me, an' I was glad I'd saved the gal. 
"An' then somethin' happined. The b'ar was squeezin' 
the very stuffin's out o' me, an' my breath was jest 'bout 
gone, when all to onct somebody grabbed the knife out 
my hand, an' I sorter felt 'em send it home to the spot I'd 
bin tryin' fer — the b'ar's heart. The b'ar shook all over 
an' then her grip slacked up an' she sunk t' the ground 
all in a heap. 
"I broke loose an' staggered back out the way. Then I 
tunred 'round, an' what do y' think? Thar stood that gal 
with the bloody knife in 'er hand, an' then I knowed 'twas 
her what finished the she b'ar an' saved my life. An' then 
things got kind o' mixed up, an' begun sailin' 'round an' 
round, an' the next thing I knowed I was lyin' on the 
ground with my head in the gal's lap an' me not knowin' 
how on arth it got thar. She was white as a ghost, an' 
cryin' to herself, an' at the same time fixin' my torn hide 
'"s well as she could. She'd tore her petticoat in strips an' 
made bandages of 'em, an' was tryin' to tie me up. When 
she seed I'd come to, she told me t' lay whar I was an' 
she'd be back in a jiffy, an' with that she bent over an' 
kissed me squar' on the mouth, an' then fixed me com- 
fo'table on the ground an' run away like a deer. 
"That kiss done the business. "Twas the fust time I'd 
ever had sech a thing did t' me in my hull life, an' I 
jest layed thar thinkin' 'bout it an' wonderin', I forgot 
my hurts an' the b'ar an' every dern thing. I jest felt 
onreas'nable happy, though I didn't know fer what. 
"Bimeby she come back. It didn't seem no time 't all 
afore she was thar a-bendin' over me. 
" 'How you feelin' ?' sez she, an' her voice sounded 
mighty mOosical, an' she was a dern fine lookin' gal. 
" 'I'm feelin' like bavin' another one o' them,' sez I, 
seein' as she didn't seem likely t' do it again without bein' 
asked. 
" 'One o' what ?' sez she. 
" 'You know,' sez I. 'It's one o' what you give me when 
you ran away jest now,* sez I. 
" 'You mustn't talk,' sez she, turnin' red as a winter- 
green berry. 'I hear the wag'n comin. Do you s'pose you 
kin stand up?' 
" 'Ef I had another one o' them I could,' sez I, but she 
only laffed. 
" 'Wait till we get out the wood,' sez she, an' then her 
dad an' some more men come an' carried me to the wag'n 
they'd fetched 'long, an' then they druv me t' Peshtigo, an' 
the gal's dad made 'em take me t' his hum, 
"She come in t' see ef I was gittin' on all right that 
night jest afore turnin' in time, an' I had a leetle talk 
with_ 'er. She said her name was Mary, an' they hadn'i 
bin in Peshtigo long, her dad havin' started a store thar 
two or three months afore. She'd gone out that mornin' 
arter blackberries, an' had run on to the old she b'ar. 
The b'ar had a couple o' cubs 'long, an' was mad, an' so 
took arter Mary. 
"Waal, I saw a hull lot o' Mary the next few days, an' 
I got so I wanted t' see 'er the hull time. One day I 
sez t' her : 'Mary,' sez I, 'how 'bout that thar othef one 
you was goin' t' give me?' 
"'Wait till you git better," seis she, an' arter that I 
di^q't see eo amch o' Mary. 
"Slp^ai's I got so. \ cb^ld git 'rotsad scssne, I begun 
courtin' Mary fer all I was wuth, but I warn't much good 
at that business. She wouldn't have nuthin' t' do with 
me, nohow, 'cept t' boss me 'round, an' the way she bossed 
me was somethin' awful. 
"T' make it wusser, I warn't the onlj'- one what was ■ 
arter Mary. They was a couple o' men what wanted t' 
git 'er as much as me. One of 'em was a big, strappin' 
feller named Bill White, an' the t'other was a sneakin', 
onery cuss named Peshtigo Sam. Guess he had a tail to 
his name, but I never heerd what 'twas, an' 'twarn't wuth 
wastin' time t' find out. 
"Bill was on the squar' entire, an' me 'n' him was 
what y' call rivals, 'cause we'd bin friends onct, but when 
Mary come atween us we jest naterly called everythin' off 
so far's bein' friends was consarned, till Mary hitched onto 
one or t'other of us. But they warn't no underhand busi- 
ness 'bout us. We was fair an' squar', jest the way two 
men orter be. 
"Peshtigo Sam was difrunt consid'able. He purtended 
t' be friends t' me an' Bill, an' all the time he was lyin' t' 
Mary 'bout us. He sartenly was a low down cuss, an' no 
mistake. 
"One day Bill got ahead o' me, an' went berryin' with 
Mary. I passed 'em as I was goin' over t' her house, hav- 
in' some sort of a noshun I'd do somethin' o' that nater 
myself. I warn't livin' at Mary's house then. I was 
hangin' out at one o' the loggin' camps while my courtin' 
was on. Waal, Bill he strutted past me like a pa'tridge 
drummin' on a log, an' looked down at me, he bein' con- 
sid'able bigger'n me, an' sort o' laffed 's ef he was dern 
smart. Mary, she turned kind o' red an' jest barely 
nodded t' me. 
"Naterly I was riled when I seed how things was, an' I 
sa'ntered over t' the store an' limbered up my feelin's with 
a leettle tanglefoot. Bimeby Peshtigo Sam come in fer 
the same purpose. 
" 'Seed Bill to-day?' sez he, eyein' me sideways. 
" 'None o' your dern business,' sez I, not feelin' like 
talkin', spite o' the redeye I'd drunk. 
" 'He's gone berryin' with Mary,' sez he, snickerin'. 
" 'S'p'osin' he has,' sez I, ' 'Tain't none o' your busi- 
ness ef he has. You jest shet yer mouth an' don't talk so 
much.' sez I. 
" 'Free kentry,' sez he. 'I'll talk all I dum wantter. I 
was goin' t' tell yer somethin' fer yer own good,' sez he, 
'but course ef you git so dern insultin' I won't. Ef you 
git into trouble, though, y' kin blame yerself fer it.' 
" 'Talk sense,' sez I. 'How kin I git in trouble?' 
" 'Bill White's layin' fer you,' sez he in a whisper. 'He'll 
do fer you sure one o' these days. I heerd him say so.' 
" 'You're lyin',' sez I. 
" 'Am I, though ?' sez he. 'Waal, when you git a chunk 
o' lead in yer gizzard don't fergit I warned you.' An' he 
sa'ntered out the store, an' I didn't think no more 'bout 
his warnin'. 
"The next day I druv over t' my place t' see how things 
was gittin' on. On my way back, 'bout two miles this 
side o' Peshtigo, as I was settin' hunched over on the 
wag'n seat thinkin' o' Mary, all to onct somethin' hit 
my hat an' knocked it plum off my head, an' the same 
minit I heerd a rifle shot. I jumped down, not knowin' 
what t' make of it, an' yelled at the top o' my voice fer 
whoever 'twas what was doin' sech reckless shootin' t' 
look a leettle out or they'd be trouble. Not hearin' or 
seein' nuthin,' I thought 'twas mebbe a spent ball, though 
the shot sounded near. I climbed back into the wag'n an' 
druv on. Course I got t' thinkin' 'bout it, an' course all 
to onct I thought 'bout what Peshtigo Sam said consarnin' 
Bill's goin' t' do fer me. The more I thought 'bout it the 
madder I got, an' by the time I reached Peshtigo I was 
fightin' mad. I put the horses up an' went straight t' the 
saw mill whar Bill worked. They told me thar he'd gone 
huntin', an' then I was plum sure 'twas bim what shot at 
me and come near doin' fe? me. 
"I waited fer him on the road he gener'ly took when 
he went huntin', an' 'bout dusk he come whistlin' 'long. 
" 'Hold on, Bill,' sez I, steppin' out in front o' him. 'I 
wantter say somethin' t' you.' 
"He stopped short an' looked s'prised an' kind o' mad. 
" 'Waal, spit 'er out,' sez he, 'an' be quick 'bout it. I'm 
in a hurry. I'm goin' t' make a call to-night,' sez he. 
grinnin'. 
" 'I wantter say,' sez I, 'I never thought you'd be sech 
a dern sneak as t' shoot at a man behind his back.' 
" 'What y' talkin' 'bout?' sez he. 'What the blazes be 
you a-talkin' 'bout, anyhow? Ef 'twarn't fer your havin' 
bin sick I'd give you a dern good lickin,' sez he. 
" 'Mebbe so an' mebbe not,' sez I, 'only I could have 
you run out o' camp fer doin' sech a low down onery trick, 
Ef it had bin Peshtigo Sam I wouldn't be so s'prised,' sez 
I, 'but I thought you was difrunt.' 
" 'See here,' sez he, 'I thought you was only bluffin'. 
What you drivin' at anyhow? Do y' mean t' say I tried t' 
shoot you ?' 
" 'You tried that hard,' sez I, takin' off my hat an' 
pointin' at the holes in it whar the ball went through. 
" *I don't know what y' mean,' sez he, 'but I do know 
you're a liar ef y' say I shot at you. I can't lick you 
'cause j^ou've bin sick, but I don't want t' have nuthin' 
more t' say to you,' an' he started away mad as a hornet. 
" 'Good reas'n why,' I shouted arter him. 'But don't 
try on no more shootin', cause two kin play at that game,' 
sez I. 
"Fer the next few days things got wusser an' wusser. 
an' they was trouble in the air fer somebodjr. One night 
not long arter that when the moon was shinin' so bright 
you wouldn't know ef 'twas day or night ef you was t' 
wake up sudden like, I was comin' home from Mary's 
when who sh'd I meet up with but Bill. I'd got ahead o' 
him that night, an' was feelin' some smart. I was goin* 
t' santer by him the way Sooner does when he runs onto 
a porcupine in the woods, when Bill he stopped squar' in 
front o' me. 
" 'See here,' sez he, *I bin thinkin' 'bout what you said 
t' me 'bout shootin' at you, an' I'm cur'ous t' know what 
in thunderation y' meant. We was purty good frjends 
onct, an' you orter know me well nuff t' know sech doin's 
ain't in my line. What made you think 'twas me done 
the shootin' ?' 
" 'Waalj' sez I, 'I know 'twarn't like you t' do sech a 
low-down trick, nohow, an' I wouldn't thoug|it '(w^s yo^y 
©f ypu, hain't seM'^yfew was goin' t' do m-e,' 
