126 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Pim. i6, tgot. 
my Uncle Martin's cellar. I'd already planned that be- 
fore I asked you to go. There'll be no need to let him 
know you're going. So far as he's concerned, he'll think 
you're only helping me for the fun of it." 
The next five weeks were very busy ones for us. I 
knew little of the art of trapping, so Ed had it all his 
own way in designing our outfit. We bought over 2,000 
feet of thin boards, and made the parts for 400 traps. 
They were about 18 inches long and 6 inches square. 
One end was closed tight, and a comb-like contrivance 
with strong darning neeedles for teeth guarded the 
entrance. The needles slanted down and inward, and 
Iheir points rested on the floor of the trap. The theory 
was this: Any animal forcing an entrance into the trap 
would be compelled to swing this needle gate up. Once 
started, there could be no returning, for the animal would 
be compeled to back out, and this would force the 
needles into its spine. So much for the theory of the 
thing. The success? Well — that's a part of our yarn 
we haven't reached yet. 
Night after night Ave worked by lamplight. The boards 
were a foot wide, and all had to be sawed through the 
center lengthwise. The sawing act was performed by 
me, and the memory of the waj^ I toiled pushing that old 
ripsaw will always remain vividly emerald. Finally all 
the parts were made and packed tightly in a monster 
dry goods box. Along with the traps we stored an as- 
sortment of old clothes which I managed to sneak from 
the house piece by piece. 
A few dai's before we were ready to start an exceed- 
ingly inquisitive neighborhood was thrown into spasms 
of wonderment by seeing a heavy express wagon back 
up to Ed's uncle's house. Then, lo and behold! a box 
as large as some of the palatial chicken coops there- 
abouts was bundled out of the cellar, and it took four 
men and fully 200 hard words to get it to the sidewalk 
and on to the wagon. It was then transported to the 
depot and shipped to Chatsaugay, N. Y. 
Outside of expenses for lumber, needles, etc., I man- 
aged to accumulate $35 by the time we were ready to 
start. Ed assured me time and again that it would be 
inconvenient to burden ourselves with capital. 
"We won't need much money," said he, "for there'll 
be no chance to spend any, away off there in the woods. 
Besides, we'll be so loaded down with valuable hides in 
the spring we won't have pockets to hold the cash we'll 
get for them. All we need now is just money enough 
to buy ammunition, flour, sugar, tea, coffee, and pay our 
fare. Then we'll have to hire some chap to drive us and 
our outfit about twenty miles into the woods, but that 
won't cost much. There'll be- no one to boss us after 
that; nothing but freedom then." 
I painted things just as rosy as Ed did, and believed in 
.them just as firmly. These were simply air castles of 
youth — and what youthful mind has not framed like 
misty pictures of hope? What a joyous, happy world 
it might be could all such dreams materialize! How few 
come true? alas! how many fade, melt and vanish like 
the delicate, dying rainbow against the darkling heavens 
of an approaching summer night! 
At last the long-looked-for day arrived. Why we had 
selected that particular time, I do not remember. I do 
remember, however, my feelings that morning. In the 
excitement of preparation I had not dreamed of ex- 
periencing the least pang at leaving home, without the 
consent of my parents. But now that the actual time 
for departure had come, a feeling of remorse stole over 
me. How could I leave without one word' of farewell to 
the family? The longer I considered the matter the 
stronger grew my determination to let my mother know, 
at least. This resolve was formed that morning. 
I was unwell that day, had no appetite, and this broke 
the way for half a day at home. After dinner, when 
father had gone, and my brothers and sisters had disap- 
peared, I told mother the whole business — how I was 
tired of the city and had decided to live in the woods; 
how I had decided to run away, but couldn't go without 
bidding her good-by. She felt badly, but finally gave 
her consent. I will not dwell on the memories of that 
afternoon. It is enough to say that there was a meeting 
in my room that evening, attended by all the family — a 
sort of farewell affair. I had the consent of my parents, 
and there was no longer need of running away. 
Good-bys were said, and we started. I staggered 
under a large valise, which held, among other things, a 
12-pound can of powder, 200 loaded shells of 12 gauge, 
200 .45 caliber cartridges and 50 pounds of chilled shot. 
Besides, I carried a double breech-loading James gun 
and a Shelton auxiliary rifle barrel in one of the barrels 
of the James, which added to its weight. Ed's Valise 
was quite heavy, but he carried no gun. We were un- 
aware that we laid ourselves liable to law in taking 
explosives on the train, among the passengers-;-and 
there was explosive enough in those valises to blow the 
whole outfit off the track. 
Chateaugay was reached in due time, and we delayed 
the train considerably while we unloaded our ammuni- 
tion. Everything was finally piled on the platform, and 
with a toot of the whistle and clanging bell the train 
pulled out and disappeared in the distance. 
Now that we had arrived at our destination, I waited 
for the next move on ihe programme. _ Ed started out 
to find his uncle and returned with his grandfather, a 
little weasened old gentleman, and we loaded our things 
in the buggy. The old gentleman drove off and we 
struck out across the fields. 
"I've something to tell you," said Ed. "Grandfathei 
don't know where Cad is, but thinks he has gone to 
Quebec and shipped. He disappeared a week ago, and 
nobody around here has seen him since. If he don't 
show up, then we can't go to the Fifty-Mile Forest, for 
I don't know anything about the place. What are we 
going to do?" 
"Well, I told grandfather about our plans, and he 
thinks we can set our traps on the streams around here 
and catch mink. Besides, he says he has steel traps which 
we can use for skunks and foxes. I've caught a good 
many mink around here myself." 
•V "That part of the business sounds all rights but where'U 
we live?" 
"Grandfather says we can stay with him until we put 
up a slab shanty. He says we can put the shanty on his 
land, and the slabs wont' cost over three dollars." 
I breathed more freely. Every one at home had 
prophesied our return inside of a week. ■ I ' knew if this , 
should prove true we would be the laughing stock qi the 
neighborhood, and I felt greatly relieved when Ed had 
unfolded his new plans. 
The soft beains of a candle fell through the panes of 
a little old-fashioned log house. This was our destina- 
tion. We were very cordially welcomed by Ed's grand- 
father and grandmother. Each had passed the four- 
score mark. Their faces beamed with kindness as they 
invited us to lay aside our belongings and partake 
of a hot supper which was steaming on the table. The 
candle in the center of the small table cast a dim, mellow 
light over our group, and the rays struggled valiantly, 
though unsuccessfully, to penetrate the corners of the 
quaint little room. 
Though Ed and I hadn't slept a wink for over thirty- 
six hours, we stayed up until a late hour that night. Ed 
had family news for the old folks, and they had news 
for him. Then his grandfather spun a few yarns con- 
nected with the old-fashioned fancy-stocked long rifle 
which rested in a pair of antlers over the door. The 
old man sighed again and again as he said: "Ed, my 
boy, age has nearly laid the old man low. ' She's a good 
old rifle, but I'll never use her again. The last time I 
fired her she tumbled over a deer right from the back 
door of this very house, and those are the antlers on 
which she rests." The old man's chin dropped to the 
back of his hands, which were folded over the head of his 
cane; then silence reigned a while. 
"Come, father, we are all tired. Come, we must go 
to bed. Ed, you knoM' yeur room? It's the one you 
always use, and Harry is to sleep with you." The kind 
voice of the old lady had broken the spell. 
Our room Avas small, neat and clean; the bed was soft 
and my rest unbroken, for my conscience was clear. I 
had not run away from home, and my dreams were rest- 
ful — ^for they were sweet dreams of home. 
William H. Avis. 
Talks to Boys. — XII. 
In teaching the dog to come to heel, get a stick two and 
a half or three feet long and have fastened to the end 
of it an ordinary snap. Call the dog to you, snap the 
hook into the ring on his collar, say to him, "Heel," and 
then walk off. Of course, he will try to run ahead of 
you, but you must hold the stick firmly, so as to keep 
the dog's head just behind your right leg. Then, as you 
waUc along, frequently repeat to him the word "heel." 
At first he will struggle and twist, and try to dart off to 
one side, and may even pull back, but you must keep 
the stick in its proper position and walk off, dragging the 
puppy behind you and frequently saying to him, "Heel! 
Heel !" It will not be very long before he will follow 
contentedly at your heels, and you may irnagine you 
have done great things, but when you free his collar and 
let him run again, and after he has played about for 
some time, again call him to heel, yon will find that he 
has no memory of his former lesson, which must now be 
repeated. After- he has had half a dozen parades at 
the end of the stick, he may very likely begin to compre- 
hend what is required of him, and when you think that 
he has reached this point it will be well for you to call 
him up, and having given the order, to walk off without 
fastening him by the stick. In a moment or two he is 
almost certain to forget, and to try to push ahead, but 
you must curb him by frequently repeating the order, 
and you may also tap him on the nose with a light switch 
which you should carry in your right hand, or may even 
give him a sharp cut with it on the body, so that he 
may realize that when you say "heel" it means "heel." 
Even after he has been taught that at the command "heel," 
he must walk behind you, he may not walk in the place 
that he ought to occupy. Sometimes he may lag yards be- 
hind, and sometimes he may run off on either side. It 
will be well, therefore, for you to give him frequent .les- 
sons at the end of the stick, which, of course, gives ab- 
solute control over him, and obliges him to heed the 
command. 
, Before you have taught him any of these other things, 
however, he should learn to come promptly at the word. 
This you may begin to teach him when he is a very little 
puppy, and it is well, when you are going to him with his 
food, to salute him always with the words, "Come here," 
or "Here." Some men, instead of using any spoken 
words, teach the puppy to come at a peculiar blast of the 
whistlcj Whatever sign, vocal or otherwise, you adopt 
when you want your- dog to come in, see that you never 
change it. Instill in him if you can the belief that when- 
ever this, sound is made, he is going to receive from you 
some good thing, and to the puppy this means something 
that he will like to eat. When you take him out to 
walk, make this sound often, and whenever he comes to 
you, as he is very likely to do, give him some little piece 
of food, a bit of cracker or a morsel of meat. Of course 
puppies are heedless ; they see a thousand things in their 
walk that they are very anxious to investigate, and per- 
haps yours may be so much taken up with his new sur- 
roundings that at times, especially if he is not very hun- 
gry, he may neglect the signal. If he does this he is 
probably so much occupied by some matter, which to him 
is of great importance, that he will permit you to walk 
up close to him ; put your hand on him, then shake him a 
little, not hard nor roughly, but enough to make him 
attend for a moment to you instead of his own important 
matter, then offer him the food, letting him smell it, but 
do not give it to him until you have retreated to the 
place where you first called him. Entice him along by fre- 
quently allowing him to smell the food until he has fol- 
lowed you back to this, place, and then give him what you 
have been offering him and keep him there for a moment 
or two. After he gets a little older, say when he is six 
or eight months old, you may take him out with a long, 
stout string to his collar, and holding one end of the string 
in your hand, let him wander to its full length. Then 
call him to you, and if he does not instantly respond, haul 
in on the rope as fast as you can, making him come on 
foot or on his side or on his back, but at all events make 
him come. When you have dragged him close to your 
feet, pat him and give him a bit of food. A combination 
of these two methods, of coaxing and forcing, is likely to 
be very effective with the average young dog. 
When your dog has pretty well gotten his growth, the 
time varying somewhat with his age and with the season 
of the;yearv you will probably yfj^nt to.h.aye' him instructed f 
by a regular trainer, Of course, if - you have had the ex- ■ 
perience aind ihave th^ tjmre, it will he much better for ; 
you to train him yourself, ^but tliis requires a great deal ; 
of patience, and a vei-y complete understanding of how • 
to make the dog dc l)is 'work, There are many excellent , 
volumes qn dog training,; writtep by rnen of long experi- 
ehce, who have striven hard to make plain the various ^ 
methods tljey^have pursued to teach the dog how to do his,, 
work.. If yo'u'haye tne time, it will be inljeresting for i 
j'ou.to train your piippy yourself, arid if you determine to , 
do this, you should get 'sonie of these books on dog train- j 
ing and study the method's adopted by the various author-, 
ities. M,o. two men employ quite the same methods, just ] 
as perhaps no two school teachers train the children under j 
their care' in the sanie way, biit by' reading over all the ' 
dift"ereht books you Will perhaps be able to select from 1 
each qne, what is best in his System and also what method ; 
you think wbiild be the best ?idapted to your , own particu- 
lar dog. Remembei", as I have told you before, that your ' 
dog is quite as eager to work for you; and t;o do the work 
as you want it done, as you yourself are to have him work 
efficiently. Blit remember also that all this that he is ' 
now about to undertake is absolutely_ he^v tp him, and 
that he can only learn what it is that is required of him 
after you have pointed it out. I have very grave doubts 
whether the average boy or,' young man of from fifteen to 
twenty years of age has stifficient patience to train a dog; 
but if he has, and has the time to do the work, he_ may 
be very sure that his dog, well trained by himself, will do 
more efficient work for him in the field than if he were 
trained by any other person. At. the same time, since.-j 
most of us have no time tq give to such a pursuit as this, 
the majority of me^ and bOys will have theiir.dogs handled 
by a professional trainer. ^ - , 
Even if you do this, however, it will be well for you' 
to purchase some of the books qn dog training and to 
familiarize yourself with the methods that trainers em- 
ploy. You will find that almost all of them insist on the 
importance of patience and kind treatment, and of making 
the dog comprehend the words, signs and. signals made to 
him. They all agree ,also that a' dgg's spirit must noti 
be broken by harsh treatment, ■ and that -it is far easier 
to take courage out of a dog. than to put it into one that 
has been, through any misfortune, cowed. You will find 
the reading of these books very profitable, and I hope that 
they will help you to handle your dog wisely and well. 
Of course, you will wish to have your dog Avell edu- 
cated, and to have him refrain from doing things that he. 
ought not to do, and to have him mind quickly and cheer- 
fully. But there is one thing that .yo\\ must SLVoid, and 
yet which you will be constantly, tempted, to do; beware 
then of perpetually finding fault Ayith your dog, telling 
him not to do that, and to do the other thing. Avoid nag- 
ging hiiii and worrying hirii with unnecessary Orders, Give 
him all the liberty that you can; let him play and romp 
and have a good time, ' If you are .perpetually finding 
fault with him, you will' see- that after a tii^ie he will 
either become heedless,' paying little, regard to your ad- 
monitions, or else he will become timid, lose his spirit and 
be afraid to do anything for' fear that you will reprimand 
him. The result of this may well be,, that you 'will either; 
have a dog that has lost all energy and initiative, or elsei 
a headstrong, beast that does not heed the words that you 
speak to him. It is much better to have a dog that is full 
of courage and always eager to (}o things and needs! 
restraint, rather than one that has lost his snap and' go. 
After you have sent your dog off to the trainer, and hei 
has received his education, and ^i^ou have been told that he 
• is now ready to be sent homfe, it will be. well for you to 
arrange to go out several times with, the man who has 
trained the dog, and observe how he works him._ Each 
individual who handles a dog, of course, has his own 
particular method of doing.it, and the dog becomes accus- 
tomed to these methods and understands them, while, of 
course, he would not understand new and different ones. 
When you go out to see the dog worked, I advise, yoU not 
to think very much about securing the birds that may be 
started, but rather to keep close to the trainer and to' 
carefully notice everything that he says and does while 
he is handling your dog. Attend especially to the way 
in which he uses the whistle, to the tones in which he 
speaks to th'e dog, and to the gestures which he makes' 
with his hand. If, by this close observation, you can teach 
yourself to act toward the dog as the trainer does, your ; 
labor in handling the animal after you have brought him 
home will be made much easier than it otherwise would, 
and the work done for you by the dog will be a great deal 
better from the beginning. This merely means what _ I 
have told you before, that a dog fails to obey his owner in 
a satisfactory manner chiefly because he does not under- , 
stand what his owner requires of him. _ _ • 
By this time your dog is grown up and is probably a' 
year and a half or two years old. He is old enough, there-: 
fore, to have some sense; but he is not old enough to have 
gotten beyond the young dog's desire to wander, to play 
and to do certain particularly bad things like chasing ^ 
fowls or sheep that tempt him by running away from 
him. At this period of his life the dog should be kept, 
much of the time- in the high walled pen in which he may 1 
be turned loose, but from which he cannot escape. If- 
you have no pen for him, you must keep him on chain. 
You should have a good kennel for him, with plenty of 
straw in it for winter weather, and it should be placed in a 
sheltered spot where it will be measurably protected from 
the cold wind and the storm. Of course, if it is con- 
venient, it is better to keep the dog in the house at night, 
and if he is a house dog as well as a hunting dog he 
must be taught not to make himself at home on the lounge' 
or in the chairs, but must have his place in the corner 
of the room where he is to lie. But if you keep him out ' 
of doors through the winter— and there is really no hard- 
ship about this, because he will readily grow accustomed' 
to the cold — see that he is made as comfortable as pos- 
sible; plenty of straw for his bed which should be fre- 
quently changed, and perhaps a bit of carpet tacked over 
the door of the kennel and hanging down loose before it, 
which he can easily push away with his head when he de- 
sires to go in or out. 
Although he should be kept confined for the most part, . 
you must see that each day he has abundant exercise., 
Take him^ for a walk if you can, or let him follow you 
when you go out on your wheel, or if you have to drive 
to the village let him follow the wagon. It will be well 
