FOHEST -AKDje stream. 
8 
zenith, he shuts his eyes, and from his powerful throat, 
through parted black lips, oflfset by gleaming fangs, came 
the wail o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o b-o-o j faint at first, then rising 
to a resonant Crescendo, and finally dying away. And 
presently, perhaps from the far shore of the river, came 
the long-drawn answer; and before it was finished others 
took up the refrain; here two or three, there an old 
female and her nearly grown family of young; and then 
far up and far down the valley, and out along the frown- 
ing cUffs, others and still others joined in, until the stiU 
air trembled with the burden of their voices. Oh, never, 
never again shall we hear the like! The days of the 
buffalo and wolf have forever vanished; days when it 
was possible for the adventurous spirit to view nature 
as yet unsoiled by the ruthless cupidity of civilized man; 
days when her children, the wild creatures of forest and 
plains, and the still wilder redmen, were almost the sole 
inhabitants of a boundless domain. 
Was there ever a hunter who failed to scrutinize each 
sandbar, mudhole and beaten path he chanced upon? 
The footprints there revealed are to him what the dailv 
paper is to the business man. They tell him of the 
game about; of its abundance or scarcity, when it passed, 
and what course he should pursue in order to find or 
overtake it. The Scribbler, it is to be feared, was always 
more of a sandbar student than he was a hunter; even 
if game was in sight he never came upon one of these 
records of its going and coming but what, perforce, he 
must needs stop, lean upon his rifle and carefullv look 
It over. Thus it happened that at different times and in 
different places he noticed the trail of an enormous 
grizzly that had a deformed foot; at least the imprint of 
the right hindfoot was nearly at right angles with the 
animal's course, the claw marks almost touching the line 
of impressions of the left feet. When he spoke about it 
to his comrades, both Ben and Jack said that they too 
had noticed the trail. By common consent the maker of 
the tracks was called the "splayfooted bear." 
Ben had an ancient grudge against the grizzly tribe 
and never neglected an opportunity to slay one^ often 
■at no little risk to himself. Years before he had been 
severely hurt and permanently disfigured by one, and 
ever since, to use his own expres.sion, he had "been 
trying to play even with 'em, gosh durn their picturs." 
"You see this here crooked mug o' mine?" he once 
said. "Pretty lookin' jaw that is, set in sidewavs; an' 
them red an' blue scars acrost what's left o' my nose! 
Beautiful, aint they? D'ye reckon any woman 'ud marry 
such a face? No, sir, not even a Digger Indian squaw. 
Wal, I looked dififerent once, an' I was goin' to marry 
as pretty a little woman back in the States as ever you 
set eyes on, but a measly old bear had to up and knock 
out my plans at the very last minnit. You see, 'twas this 
way. Me and Polly was poor; she lived with her widder 
mother on a little farm that was mortgaged for all 'twas 
wuth, an' I didn't have nothin' much but the clothes I 
stood in. But if I do say it, I was a willin' cuss, an' 
always glad to rustle. When me an' Polly agreed to get 
spliced, I says to her, says I, 'Pollv, it 'pears to me that 
the fust thing to do is to pay ofi that mortgage, an' I'm 
goin' to do it. Just you wait a year, old gal, an' I'll 
make the riffle. Then we'll have a home of our own, an' 
be able to hold up our heads with the best of 'em.' 
"I'd heard about there bein' lots of beaver out West, 
an' I'd made my mind up to go out and catch a lot of 'em' 
Polly cried an' took on, of course, an' when it came to 
the partin' I nearly give in, but I give her a kiss an 
run away as fast as I could, havin' promised to return 
in a year an' marry her whether I made any money or 
not. Came out here to the Rocky Mountains an'' did 
•first rate, barrin' bein' set afoot onct or twict by the 
Injuns. That fall I catched nigh onto a thousand dollars' 
worth of fur, an' the next spring I got as much more 
before the season was half over. I had enough to pav 
off the mortgage an' somethin' left, but I says to myself: 
T 11 keep on so long as the fur is good; a thousand or so 
extry '11 come in handy to buy a team an' waggin, an' 
a few pretty dresses fer Polly.' 
"One mornin' I was makin' the rounds of my traps 
an when I found a beaver I jest carried him back in 
the brush a piece an' skinned him. Well, I was busy 
takin' the hide off one, when I heard a little noise an' 
turned around jest in time to git a swat acrost 
the,-arm, an' a biff in the face, from the paws of an old 
grizzly. It put me to sleep all right, an' when I came to 
I found my arm was broke, an' likewise my jaw. The 
bear had lit out with my beaver, which was all he wanted 
jf^me and mine. Of course, I was awful stiff an' sore, 
an my eyes was nearly SAvelled shut, but somehow er 
another I made out to get to the house of a settler, who 
had just moved into them parts, an' there I staid fer 
many a week, suckin' milk an' .soup through a goose 
quill, an' a nursin' my wounds." 
"One day I was a-pokin' around, lookin' fer something 
er another, when I run acrost a bit of lookin' glass an' 
thought I'd see what that old bear had done to me 
anyhow. When I caught sight of myself I nearly fainted 
an' I knew that 'twas all up with me, that Polly never 
would marry sech a horrible lookin' cuss. I felt awful 
V^'ij"*^!: ^'^P^ ^ time to figure out just what 
stiould be done, but the upshot of the business was that 
J packed up them beaver skins an' shipped 'em to Polly 
an got the rancher I was stoppin' with to write her that 
i was dead an' buried, killed by a grizzly. And that''? 
why I do love to fill a b'ar's carcass full o' lead " 
•'But what became of Polly?" the Scribbler asked. 
Oh, Polly.'' She's all right. Some years after I see 
a teller from down in that country, an' he said she was 
married to a no account cuss, and had a house plumb 
lull o children. Come to think on it, I don't know but 
what things turned out fer the best after all. How in 
•thunder could I ever have lived in a house "chUck full o' 
young ones? 
October came, but still the leaves hung green upon the 
trees, and the heat of summer continued to make the 
, days uncomfortably warm. But the hunters no longer 
loafed restlessly about the cabin, wishing for cold weather 
to set in that they might begin wolfing. They had found 
something to occupy their time; the death of old splay- 
foot had been decreed, and everv day from dawn to dark 
was passed in quest of him. The bear was to blame 
One evening Ben shot a fat ram back in the breaks 
across the river, and carefully dressed it, for be it known 
that not even the "boss ribs" of a fat, dry buffalo cow 
was quite as good meat as that of a bighorn ram at that 
season of the year. The sun had set when Ben rowed 
back across the river to get his partners to help him 
carry his prize down to the boat and up to the cabin, 
but they went with him cheerfully, smacking their lips 
m anticipation of juicy steaks, cut an inch and a half 
thick and broiled rare, and fat ribs roasted brown before 
the open fire. It was a long and stiif climb up to the 
toot of the cliff where Ben said the animal lay, and in 
their hurry to reach the place before dark they were drip- 
ping with perspiration and gasping for breath by the 
time they got there. But lo, no ram was to' be found; 
there were the head and entrails, mussed and dragged 
about, but the body had disappeared. There was still 
a faint, crimson glow in the west, and by its aid the 
lumters found a well known trail which explained mat- 
ters; old splayfoot had carried off the carcass for his 
evening, meal! It was amusing to witness Ben's rage; 
he stamped around and swore, calling on heaven and 
earth to witness that he would have the bear's life ere 
the set of another .sun. 
It was evening again. The sun had set in a halo of 
fleecy, crimson clouds. As the stars came out the wolves 
conimenced their usual sad refrain, and the owls began 
again to repeat that answerless question they have been 
asking for untold ages. Primeval man, from the depths 
of his noisome cave, heard their asking, "Who-who- 
who?" and doubtless shuddered at the uncanny sound. 
During the day Jack and the Scribbler had been up on 
the cliffs after bighorn, and as the result of their efforts 
the red and white meat of a two-year-old ram graced 
the outside cabin wall. Before the fire hung a side of 
the ribs browned to a turn, and the hungry hunters 
were impatiently awaiting the return of their partner 
before placing it upon the table. True to his vow, Ben 
had .started out long before sunrise that morning in 
quest of Splayfoot, It was quite dark when the clank, 
clank of the oars told of his approach, and presently he 
came in, hung_ up his rifle and wearily sat down without 
a word. Jack hurried to place the ribs, the coffee and 
beans upon the rude table, and the three whipped out 
their sheath knives and fell to. 
It was ijuite evident that Ben had one of his "spells," 
as Jack called them, for he tore the meat savagely from 
the bones in great mouthfuls, and swallowed cup after 
cup of coffee in utter silence. When he got into one of 
his surly moods his partners had learned by experi- 
ence to. leave him alone, and let him lha\v out by himself. 
This he finally did under the influence of the good sup- 
per they had prepared. "Fellers." he said, as he filled 
and lighted his pipe and stretched, out lazily on his 
bunk. "Fellers, I missed him slick an' clean, at ten 
yards. Think on't! ten yards, and a standin' shot at 
that!" 
"Maybe yer rifle sights are out of plumb," Jack sug- 
gested. 
"No, they're all right; jest wait an' I'll gin you the facts. 
As soon as 'twas light enough to follow the ole thief's 
trail I picked it up, an' in the course of a mile or so come 
to where he had cached the sheep carcass; that is what 
Avas left on't. He had eat considerable an' kinder cov- 
ered the rest with dirt, grass and sagebrush. As soon 
as I see it, I climb up on a rock shelf handy by an' sot 
down, I'eelin' sure thet the ole cuss 'd come prowlin' 
around after a while to git his breakfast. It was a first 
class place I had to lay for him; the shelf I was sittin' 
on might have been ten foot high, an' right at my back 
another one rose straight up for a consid'able ways. 
Well, the sun came up an' I kept mv eyes peeled fer a 
sight o' the critter. They was lots o' buffalo feedin' 
around, an' antelope an' sich like, but nary b"ar. Some 
blacktail does an' fawns come a steppin' an' a prancin' 
along, stoppin' now an' then to nip off the top of a 
greasewood brush. They kept workin' their ears an' 
a sniflfin' an' a lookin' back an' ahead, an' all around, but 
they never seen nor smelt me as they passed. Putty soon 
an ole bitch wolf an' her four pups— nigh about as'big as 
she was— come a trottin' on ole Splayfoot's trail whar 
he had drug the meat, an' Avheii thev got to his cache 
they sniffed around an' begun to paw the dirt an' brush 
often It. I got up an' shooed 'em off an' you'd ougliter 
seen 'em light out. By and by a little piece o' rock 
dropped down on the shelf where I was sittin'. Sheep, 
thinks I; too bad I can't shoot one, but bear before the 
belly this mornin'. I twisted my head around an' looked 
up, an' danged if thar wan't a big ole grizzly lookin' 
down at me. I jest laid down kind o' slow like on my 
back, took a good sight fer his neck, let go ker-blim an' 
then jumped an' run to git out o' the way of a ton er 
so o' bear I expected would be a fallin' down in about 
that place. But they wan't no ton fell, nor a pound, nor 
nothui'; nor was they any sound o' groanin' er scratchin' 
or cavortm' up on the cliff. So looked around, 
tound a place whar I could git on top, an' scrambled 
tip as last's I could. Well, fellows, I could hardly be- 
lieve my eyes when I see thev was no bear there' nor 
no blood nor hair; nothin' but ole Splayfoot's tracks 
whar he had moseved off oA^er the hills. Y^ou bet I was 
mad! I had a notion to smash the ole gun, but when I 
see the sights was all right, I just cussed mvsel! an' lit 
out on the ole bear's trail as fast as I could go. Course 
I lost It soon's he struck the grass an' sagebrush, but I 
kep on huntin' down along the river for miles, an' then 
come back along the cliffs, but I never see him agin 
But just you wait. I swar I'll never quit till I have his 
ole hide. What I can't git over is a missin' him this 
mornin . I ain't no tenderfoot, I don't git excited- no 
not even when the game is Injuns, t' say nothin' o' bear' 
How could I have done it?" 
Jack and the Scribbler duly sympathized with Ben 
httle thinking that they also were about to join him 
m his quest for the bear. When they arose the next 
morning, they found that their prized fat sheep meat no 
longer adorned the cabin wall, and the tracks of old 
Splayfoot around explained the cause of its disappear- 
ance. 'Weve got to kill him," said Jack, as he re- 
luctantly cut some slices from a slab of bacon for break- 
tast, "an' I for one propose to begin a reg'lar hunt for 
him this mornin . ' 
The Scribbler also signified his intention to make 
Splayfoot pay for his thieving with his blood. Litttle 
did any of the hunters dream how their quest for the 
cunning old grizzly was to end. 
The Sciubbi,er. 
Smallj Cook', Book 
For [Oar Glob Ho«se. 
Chapter I, 
And the FoKEST and Stream ts welcome to f tint it 
for other club houses, if it so desires. 
If the food is not well cooked and properly served, the 
pleasure of the shooting or fishing trip is lessened. One 
will be hungry, and will enjoy any Idnd of cooking, the 
first day, but the second day it must be good. Cooking 
is not a high art in many rural localities, and yet a little 
attention to two or three details is all that is necessary 
in order to make it so. 
The first thing to learn is to "get breakfast." Because 
you hye ni the country, dear lady, it may well be that 
your chief reliance is upon the hog for vour piece de re- 
sistance for this meal, if not indeed for the other two W^l 
and good. Pork is all right once in a while, since it is 
so much more readily obtained than any other meat. 
But do not often offer the man from the city pickled 
pork, or salt pork. . Give him ham or bacon, well cured 
He eats that kind of pork at home, and is fond of it—for 
breakfast. Cut it in thin slices and broil it. No, I take 
that back. Cut it and put it in the broiler and have it 
ready to broil when he sits down at the breakfast table. 
If you broil it five minutes before it is set before him, 
he will not eat it unless cornpelled to by hunger. And 
the same is true about the fried potatoes and eggs Do 
not cook them until he sits down at the table. ' Boil your 
potatoes the night before and in the morning peel them 
and cut m slices and salt and pepper them well and lay 
them in a dish beside the waiting broiler and bacon 
When you hear him at the table take a frying pan and 
put a teaspoonful of lard in it, and set it over a hot fire 
Take off the stove lid so the lard will fairly smoke in- 
stantly. When It smokes, throw in the sliced potatoes, 
ihey will brown (such of them as are on the bottom) in 
p. nioment, and while this is taking place, seize the 
broiler and plunge that bacon in the hottest of the fire 
Turn over the slices of potatoes once and let another 
batch of the slices brown. Now turn the bacon and make 
the other side of the slices of bacon sizzle. And fry the 
man an egg or two, or boil or poach them, at the same 
time as you iry the potatoes and broil the bacon. Now 
ihe man is going to have a good breakfast unless you 
spoil It m the serving. The thing is to get it to him the 
instant it comes from the fire, served in hot dishes with 
covers, so_ the things Avill stay hot until he can get at 
them This kind of breakfast, if supplemented with good 
bread or rolls, good butter, and coffee, costing 35 cents 
per pound and made as hereinafter described, is what the 
city man likes. You Avill notice that wli«re it differs 
from your accustomed method of cooking is in its being 
cooked m the one breath and eaten in the next Give 
him a httle of your excellent fruit along with the above 
Oh, anything, so it is fruit. Dried apples is better than 
none at all. When he begins to look satiated, give him 
three hot griddle cakes, and he will be yours for life 
About the coffee. Put three tablespoonfuls of ground 
coffee (freshly ground) in a coffee pot that is perfectly 
clean and dry mside. Now put the coffee pot on the 
stove just long enough to make the bottom of the pot 
hot. Lift the hd and smell in! Do you notice how fra- 
grant that coffee begins to smell? You have performed 
the mystery of liberating the very last atom of fragrance 
from that coffee. Now pour two cups of bubbling boil- 
ing water on the three tablespoonfuls of coffee Let it 
set five minutes on the back of the stove and then pour 
about two tablespoonfuls of cold water down the spout 
If you do this you will be able to give the man two cups 
of good coffee, although one cup shou}d satisfy him. 
Lrood coffee is sometimes made in other ways but the 
other ways are not to be trusted. 
I almost forgot to say that the first tiling an epicure 
wants at a meal is a glass— a clean, shining glass of cold 
water. The next morning give him ham, or. better, beef- 
steak or chops, or broil him one of his quail. Do not 
be afraid to ask him for it, or if you are the lady at my 
club, help yourself from his -string of birds— it is one of 
the rules ot the club that game and fish taken on the 
c ub s preserves is subject to its fair contribution to the 
club house table. 
In my next chapter I will tell you about dinner. 
George Kennedy. 
The ^'Sportsman^* and the **Spott,'* 
Waterbury, Conn., Dec. 16.— Editor Forest and 
i>tream: ][n_ your issue of the isth inst. your corre- 
spondent Dick Swiveller, under the heading, "Sports- 
man and Sporting Man," hits the nail on . the head. 
Iwenty-five years ago a sportsman was a thoroughbred 
gentleman, .whose hobbies were shooting and fishing in a 
legitimate, gentlemanly way; who used fine guns, rods and 
well-bred, well-broken dogs. No one ever thought of his 
being a gambler, roue, or tough— he was as much of a 
gentleman m the field as in the parior. Nowadays he is 
considered a "sport" or "sporting man," which is gen- 
erally understood by the public to mean a man who 
spends the most of his time shaking dice for drinks going 
to ball games, horse races, and that most "noble'' sport 
of all, prize fighting, and betting on them. 
Thank goodness there are still plenty of the real "sure 
enough" sportsmen left, who know enough to let the 
sports alone, but it always makes one tired to see the 
papers of the present day try to bring the "sportsman" 
down to the level of the ga:mbler and loafer. 
Point. 
The North Carolina Qtiail Supply, 
Hickory, N. C, Dec. sj.-The crop of quail is not as 
large this year m this State as usual, as far as I am able 
to judge from observation and report, and I found the 
same conditions in my short trip to South Carolina. The 
reason is that cotton is high, and also wheat, so much so 
that large fields are plowed up, the natural cover dis- 
turbed, and, too, the dry, hot summer may have had some- 
thing to do with it. I hunt harder, range wider and work 
the dogs harder to get even fair results, and I hear th® 
same story from others. Pink Edge, , 
