S82 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[May i8, ipoi. 
Two Scares* 
"Talking about scares, I don't mind one once in a 
while — a long while; but two in twenty-four hours are 
more than a decent man is called upon to bear with 
enough patience to put in tea." 
The Judge had his pipe going well before he resumed, 
our ha-ving tempted him to a refill. 
The tins were washed, plenty of wood handy, darkness 
had come, and we were squatted pretty close to the fire 
in front of the lean-to, for it was cold. 
This is to be read slowly, as the Judge spoke that way. 
"You boys know that it is a long time since I hunted 
with another gun. I gave up taking chances with another 
man when my friend was caiTied out of the woods shot 
by his careless friend. You know I don't allow even my 
guide to carry a rifle when I'm out for big game. 
"Well, it was about this time of the year. I had a 
feeling that I had lost something, and when I seriously 
analyzed it, I found it was a moose. I dropped a card 
to Louis Noel, the Indian, telling where and when to 
meet me, and in a couple of days started for Guys- 
borough, county. 
"It was pretty late in the day before I found Louis — 
too late to strike into the tepee — so we made for a house 
known to him kept by a widow; and a long way it was. 
We reached it, hoAvever, just before dark, climbed up the 
hill and banged at the door. The woman came at once, 
and I haven't seen a more worried one since. Before I 
could say a word she let out a torrent of them as long 
as the Moral Code. What I could make of it was that 
a tramp had applied for something to eat that morning, 
she had given him a good meal, and he liking it, and find- 
ing no man around, proposed to annext the whole outfit. 
Of coiirse, she was very much frightened, and coaxed 
and threatened him; but there he styed, and while she 
was speaking a door in the hall opened and his Joblots 
slouched up to the front. 
"He was a pretty hard looking specimen, and the 
meals he had eaten that day gave him an impudent air 
that killed sympathy at once. 
"The widow had said there was only one available 
room in the house, and he had pre-empted it. 
" 'Look here,' says I to him, mildly, 'you asked this 
woman for .something to eat this morning, and she gave 
it to you. Is that correct?' 
" 'Yas,' he growled. 
" 'And you stayed and ate some more?' 
" 'Wall, it's none o' your d business, is it?' 
" 'And you propose now to take the only room with 
which she can earn a little money?' 
" That's wot.' 
"'Well, my friend,' says I, 'you are f'ealiy making a 
mistake. I want that room, and if you don't want to 
sleep in the woods jog along, quick.' 
" 'I guess not,' he said. 
"I stood my gun against the side of the house and 
began to put off my pack. He stepped outside, and 
.stood a couple of j^ards off and slowly took in my 72 
inches, turned around, and with a lot of fancy cusses 
started for the village we had passed through. We 
watched him out of sight, and went in. 
"The widow was a grateful little soul, and hustled 
around to maks us comfortable, and succeeded first rate. 
She told me more about the tramp; how the cuss 
wouldn't even get a little wood for the fire to make his 
own meals, and so on, until 9 or 10, when we went to 
bed in the spare room. 
"It wasn't much of a room to fight about. We got 
to it by a sort of ladder that landed right in it, an, by 
Jove! it was cold. There was a small window that let 
in more air than light, and I saw by the candle only 
one little cot, and mighty little on it. We undid our 
packs and got out the blankets. I took off my boots 
and hat, and rolled up on the cot, while Louis did the 
same in the corner on the floor, and it wasn't long before 
we slept. 
"I don't know how long I slept — an hour or two, 
maybe — but the next thing I knew I was standing in the 
middle of the room, my hair standing too, and the awful- 
lest scream ringing in my ears that ever man heard. My 
blanket was wound around me like a fly paper, but I 
got it off in a hurry, seeing mental pictures of cut- 
throats, outrages and all the rest of it. I grabbed the 
rifle, told Louis to follow, and slid down the ladder 
without touching a rung^ I think. 
"We stood a few seconds to listen — not a sound. I 
called out, 'Anything wrong?' — no answer. I tried a 
door or two — locked. I unlocked the front door and 
stepped out. It was almost light as day. The moon was 
up big, but it showed nothing wrong to me. 
"I said, 'Come along' to Louis, and we climbed a fence 
and went entirely around the house. Everything was 
quiet and orderly, and the window^s were all shut. I 
stood and shivered in my stocking feet, completely 
mystified. 
"Louis grunted out in an inqtjiring tone, 'Dream?' 
" 'Dream be ,' I was about to answer, when I 
jumped about 3 feet with this terrible scream ringing out 
again. No dream this time, anyway. I looked up 
from whence it came, and to my intense disgust, there^ 
on the ridge of the house, sat an owl that looked as big 
as a prize turkey. 
"Well, maybe I wasn't mad! I didn't see a bit of 
humor in it then. I jammed a cartridge in the. gun, 
and in a couple of seconds blew that owl into such bits 
that no ornithologist could identify it. We then sneaked 
back to the room and tried to get some more sleep, 
but I didn't succeed very well. Louis asked before I 
got settled down, 'Mister scared?' I told him to go to 
blazes, and pulled the-blanket over my head. 
"All the same, boys, it was a scare. 
"We were out at daylight, the widow making us a good 
breakfast. She had heard the rifle, but not the owl. Was 
used to it, I s'pose. 
"We were off early; had a long tramp before us, and 
it seemed to be getting warmer. Louis shook his head 
at the sky, and I didn't like the looks of it myself. He 
%Qok the lead on Ibe trail— and a tough one it was, I tell 
you. About II we had a bite and eased our backs of the 
duffle. The weather looked gloomy, and was getting too 
warm for snow or comfort. We didn't rest long, as I 
saw Louis was anxious to be moving. 
"To cut it short, we made the tepee about 5 that even- 
ing, and a great relief it was, too. The tepee was of 
poles and bark, you know, one he had put up some time 
before, and a pretty good one it looked. 
"Louis cut firewood, while I went for spruce to make 
new beds. It was dark by the time everything was made 
snug and the tea going, and the wind came up easterly, 
too, and I knew that meant a wet day unless it changed. 
"We fmished tea and sat around to smoke, Louis being 
more silent than usual, I thought, although I didn't try 
to make him talk, being tired and thoughtful myself. 
Anyway, I don't feel much like talking in the woods 
except on an occasion like this. 
"We smoked a couple of pipes, and while Louis built 
a fire in the middle of the teepee I strolled down to get 
a tin of water, nearly breaking my neck in the darkness 
getting it, Things looked so cozy inside. that I decided 
to turn in. I fussed around a little, and he, too, rolled up 
in his blanket. 
"Well, I slept; and this time I was not awakened by a 
scream, but by a cold 'spat' on the temple. I was really 
only half awake, wondering what it was, when it came 
again, hitting me in the same spot, Then I knew. It 
was raining hard, and a drop, running down a pole, let 
go right over my head. I moved my head slightly, just 
in time to catch it on the nose. As I moved a little 
again. I opened my eyes and saw, on the other side of the 
fire, the Indian slowly rising. I wondered if he had 
found a cold drop, too, and \vondered some more when 
I saw him on his feet and the firelight flash on a knife 
in his hand. 
"Without a sound he stepped over the fire toward me. 
Another drop fell, broke on a spruce twig and spattered 
in my eyes, making me close them for an instant. I 
thought. Had I offended him, or had I shown more 
money than was wise when paying the widow? I had 
been out with him before, and alwaj^s found him trust- 
worthy, if not exactly cheerful. 
"I opened my eyes quickly, and found him leaning over 
me, and away at the end of his uplifted arm was that 
wicked, glittering knife. 
"Boys, I was paralyzed for a second; then, just as I 
was about to roll aside to avoid the blow, he gave one 
long sweep of the knife , sliced the bark off the 
dripping pole, quietly stepped back, and rolled up again 
in his blanket." H. M. Rosenberg. 
Halifax, N. S. 
A Dog that Thought He Could Fight 
"Speakin' o' fightin' dorgs," Old Hogarth drawled, in 
his quiet voice, breaking the painful silence that had fol- 
lowed Jack's latest effort — one of those wuld flights of 
fancy which he was wont to term "a true personal ex- 
perience," and which always had a subduing effect upon 
our own vain ambitions to- shine in a like capacity — 
"Speakin' o' fightin' dorgs, I've seed a hull lot o' sech 
critters, oft' 'n' on, in my life, of all sorts an' sizes, but I 
never seed one what could come up to Jim Simpson's 
brindle bull. Fight? Why, that wa'n't no name fer it. 
He just na'terly wallered in a good scrap, an' he didn't 
give a cuss fer odds. He'd fight any number o' dorgs 
an' come out on top every dern time. 'Twas as bad as 
havin'.a painter 'round loose when he was out on the 
warpath, an' ef Jim hadn't live so fur away I wouldn't 
'a' had a dorg left by the end o' the year, 'ceptin' Sooner, 
who was too cute fer him. 
"Waal, naterly, Ave didn't none of us zactly hanker arter 
that dorg's company, an' from dislikin' the dorg 'twarn't 
onusual dif'cult t' git t' sorter not bavin' much time fer 
his owner. When Ave hinted purty plain like to Jim that 
we wa'n't all-fired in love with his brindle bull an' that his 
days of usefulness as a dorg, 's far as avc Avas consarned, 
was over, ef he'd ever had any sech days 'tall, Jim he 
bristled up like a porcupine an' sez, sorter sassy-like, as 
how he guessed he'd keep any dorg he dum wanted to, 
an' Avould lick any man Avhat had any more objections 
t' make. Seein' as he had the brindle bull 'long with him 
at the time, we didn't try t' find out how much in arnest 
he Avas. 
"Y' see, 'sociatin' with that thar fightin' bull dorg had 
got Jim t' thinkin' he was 'baout as good a fighter as the 
dorg was, an' as the two on 'em was allers together we 
wa'n't bustin' our gizzards t' dispute the title, as the 
laAvyers say. 'Twas a case o' 'like master like dorg' 
turned hind sight foremost, an' bimeby Jim got t' be as 
onpopular as the brindle bull. I allers notice tliat Avhen 
a man begins t' think he's bigger'n smarter'n anybody 
else, right thar's Avhere he gits ketched in his OAvn b'ar 
trap, an' he has t' begin an' learn all over again. An' it's 
the same Avith dorgs as men. 
"Waal, one day me' n' Bill here Avas out sorter seein' 
Avhat they Avas t' see, Avhen all t' onct Ave run on to a she 
b'ar an' her cub. They Ava'n't nothin' t' do but shoot the 
b'ar or git chawed up, so we let her have it an' knocked 
her over, an' Bill he ketched the cub, a cute, fuzzy leettle 
cuss, an' brung him home fer t' tame him fer a pet. But 
that thar cub Ava'n't what y' might call sociable, an' Bill 
couldn't do nothin' Avith the leettle devul. He growed 
fast 'nuff, an' the bigger he got the crosser he got, an' 
by the time he was six months old he'd made hisself so 
dcrned onpopular the old woman SAvore she'd shoot him 
ef I didn't. 
"Things was gittin' sorter oncomf'table 'baout the 
house, an' the old woman was ripsnortin' 'round avus- 
ser'n the cub b'ar, Avhen Avho sh'd come sa'nterin' 'long 
one day but Jim Simpson an' his brindle bull. He had 
the dorg tied to a chain, an' both on 'cm Avas a-hankeriiV 
arter a fight, 'tAvas easy t' see that. Jim spied the b'ar 
right awav. 
" 'Hello!' sez he. 'Whar'd y' git that thar scart, onery 
lookin' critter?' 
" 'Caught him when I Avas fishin' fer trout,' sez I, not 
admirin' his- style o' talk. 'Better not monkey with him, 
'cause he's purty cross,' sez I. 
" 'Y' don't say,' sez he, with a mean grin. 'Do y' keep 
him fer protection? Ain't y' glad he's tied up, ^Tige?' 
,sez he lookin' doAAm at the brindle bull an' laffin'/ 
'' 'WafvV sez I, beginnin' f §it xny dander up, 'next 
t' your infarnel bull dorg thar he's 'baout the ugliest- 
tempered critter I ever met up with,' sez I. 
" 'Oh, Tige ain't cross,' sez he, laffin' more. 'Tige's 
gentle as a lamb, ain't y' Tige? I guess,' sez he, sorter 
contemptuous like, 'I guess that sickly lookin' cub could 
chaw Tige into mincemeat.' 
" 'Shouldn't Avonder,' sez I, more t' rile him than any- 
thin' else.' 
" 'We might git up a fight,' sez he, purtendin' t' be in 
arnest. 
"Now I knoAved I'd have t' shoot the b'ar sooner or 
later, an' I thought I'd give the critter a chanct fer his 
life. He might make it interestin' fer the brindle bull, an' 
anyAvays I Avas mad clean through by that time, an' 
Avanted t' make Jim madder'n me. He was a mean cuss 
ef they ever was one. 
" 'How much'll y' bet?' sez I. 
" 'I ain't got nuthin' 'long but my rifle/ sez he, some 
s'prised. 
" 'Oh, that'll do^' sez I; 'I'll hold it fer seciu-ity.' 
" 'What'll y' bet?' sez he. 
" "Baout ten dollars,' sez I. 
" 'I'll take it,' sez he, thinkin' he had me beat, an' 
jumpin' at the chanct. 'Let's see yer money.' 
"I put up the money an' then he sez: 
" 'Onchain yonder terrible critter,' sez he. But^ that 
cub knoAved somethin' AVas up consamin' hisself, so he 
planted his back ag'in the tree, an' sot thar lookin' 
wicked an' darin' us t' come on, an' I fer one Ava'n't 
special eager t' take the dare. 
" 'He'll have t' fight jest as he is,' sez I. 'Turn the 
dorg loose.' 
'■ 'Just as you say,' sez he. 'Go fer him Tige! Eat him 
up!' sc/. he, slifpin' the chain from the dorg. 
"Tige didn'l need no coaxin', but sailed in t' do up 
the cub b'ar. _ The b'ar didn't seem much consarned, but 
sot thar waitin', an' I begun t' feel glad I wa'n't Tige. 
The brindle bidl walked up to the cub, sparrin' fer an 
openin', as the laAvyers say, Avhen afore he knoAved Avhat 
had happened he got a SAvipe on the side o' the head that 
knocked him endAvnse. He got up madder'n he ever was 
afore, I reckon, an' made a rush, aimin' t' git the cub 
by the throat. An' right thar's Avhar he Ava'n't so allfired 
smart as he thought he was, 'cause the cub b'ar jest 
opened his lovin' arms an' took him 'round the neck an' 
begun a-huggin' the Avind out'n him. An' Avhile he was 
a-huggin' he was a-clawin' an' a-diggin' Avith his hind 
feet up an' down the brindle bull's sides an' belly, an' 
'twarn't long afore that dorg was a sight. The dorg 
had had a nuff an' so had Jim, but the cub b'ar hadn't, 
an' he kept right on a-clawin' an' a-huggin'. 
" "Take off yer b'ar!' Jim began yellin', dancin' up an' 
doAvn. 'Take "him off!' sez he, 'or he'll kill my dorg!' 
" 'i hope he does,' sez I, laffin'. 'Take him off yerself.' 
"Waal, the long an' the short of it was that when the 
cub b'ar got through with the brindle bull they wa'n't 
nmch fight left in the dorg or much of any thin' else; an' 
Avhen Jim begun t' git sassy 'baout it Bill turned in an' 
give him the derndest lickin' he ever had in his life. 
So, OAvin' t' the cub b'ar, 't Avarn't such a bad day's work 
arter all. 
"We buried the brindle bull fer Jim, an' Jim went home 
considerable edefied consarnin' cub b'ars. What become 
o' the cub b'ar? Oh, we turned him loose the next day, 
an' I guess he's still ripsnortin' 'round the Avoods some- 
Avhars lookin' fer a fight, onless he got too smart fer his 
breeches. When a critter or a man does that air he 
generally ends like Jim Simpson's brindle bull." 
Fayette Durlin, Jr. 
In the Southern Appalachians. 
That portion of the Southern Appalachian Mountain 
region which covers the western part of North Carolina 
and the eastern part of Tennessee, and which projects 
somewhat into South Carolina and Georgia, is destined 
to play a very important part in our social life as a 
future recration ground for the people of the Eastern 
and Southern United States. 
The natural beauties of this section of the country can- 
not be overrated, and to the very sIoav progress which 
has been made in the so-called development of the 
region by building railroads through it, Ave owe the as 
yet almost perfect preservation of its sylvan charms. 
Fortunate it is that the railroad construction was_ de- 
layed until Ave had awakened to the fact that primitive 
nature presents to us recreative phases Avhich the art of 
man can never supply. 
If Congress crowns with success the endeavors of 
loA^ers of nature to have a large area Avithin this region 
set aside as a park reservation, and this action be taketit 
in time to stop the devastation of forest growth Avhich 
is even now proceeding Avith frightful rapidity, we and 
our descendants AA'ill have reserved for recreation purposes 
Avhat has been so aptly termed the mountain fairyland of 
the United States. Here alone in our country do AA-^e 
find that combination of almost tropical luxuriance 
of plan and forest growth, Avith the delicious atmos- 
pheric conditions of our Northern mountains. 
I shall use my Hmited amount of space in presenting 
the opportunities for sport in this region. It may as well 
be confessed at the outset that so far as shooting is con- 
cerned the region is a disappointment to any one who 
imagines that because so few sportsmen have visited it, 
and the covers are so palpably excellent and retired, there 
must be plenty of game. The country is apparently so 
sparsely settled that one may ride for 'fifteen miles over 
some of the main country roads and not see a single 
Avayside cabin. Back in the cove-like valleys, however, 
Ave do find the isolated cabins of the mountaineers, suffi- 
cient in the aggregate to amount to a respectable number. 
A whole county may have 500 or 1,000 male inliabitants. 
and almost CA^ery one has hunting proclivities.^ The 
professional hunter does not noAv exist, according tu 
my observation; the product of the corn patch and the 
mast-fed razorback hog being considered everywhere a 
more reliable sustenance than game. 
Although actual game is scarce, o^ving to there being 
so many himters and practically no closed seasons, yet 
the possibilities for game are enormous. No other 
region in Our country offers such attractions for game 
preserves. In the first place, the country is so broken 
that in whatever pl^ce one find? liWS^K t^l^re is every 
