82 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 3, 1901. 
At the Farm. 
•It was dusk when we landed at the little flag station 
of R., among the hills of Western Massachusetts. Farmer 
Bailey was there to meet us with his hearty voice and hard 
hand of welcome, and he soon had us and our traps 
stowed away in his broad, old-fashioned buggy. The 
Toad was as rough as the path of virtue, but the little 
man went it at a spanking pace that threw us about like 
corn in a popper, and for a few minutes no one spoke 
for fear of losing the tip of his tongue. When our bal- 
ancing muscles were in play the questions came out like 
shots in a warm corner. 
"Never was such a dry year," replied Bailey. "Ain't 
water enough to wet shoe leather. It's as scarce as 
money in these parts. Never see the birds so hard to 
find. It's bad on the dwgs, too. Their tongues hang 
out with thirst so's they trip on 'em." 
He clucked to his horse. We had just reached the 
crown of a considerable elevation and were on the brink 
of a depression looking as deep and dark as Avernus. 
Bailey always made up for lost time going down hill. 
We tried to brace ourselves as the buggy ricochetted down 
the descent. Shooting the chutes was nothing to this. 
"Gol ding it, if I ain't had lots of trouble this year," 
roared Bailey above the rattle of the wheels. "Bought 
a lot er shells .down to the grocery store and couldn't 
hit a thing with 'em. Not a blame. thing! Patterned 
'em on the barn at forty paces and couldn't find a shot- 
mark. Had a feller with me and he said he saw the 
shot roll right outer the barrels and drop in the grass, 
I believe him, too, though most generally he's a liar." 
We struck a little plank bridge at the foot of the hill 
and apparently knocked it into kindling wood, but the 
buggy still went on. 
"My best dog, Hal's, lame, too. Feet and legs all 
swelled and blistered. It's the first time he was ever 
troubled that way. Something's Jonahed me for sure. 
Well, here we are! Smell that supper?" 
We threaded the littered barnyard without the slight- 
est diminution of speed and brought up with a spine- 
paralyzing Jerk by the milk can rack on which were 
irnpaled a ghostly array of great cans. Thankfully we 
alighted and stretched our tortured limbs. The voices 
of dogs arose about up from different quarters. The 
mouth of the great barn j-awned cavernously, breathing 
forth a soft perfum.e of clover-scented hay that was even 
more grateful to our senses than the appetizing odor that 
stole from the lighted kitchen. How quiet the hills were. 
How velvet the dusk. How petty it all made the city 
seem with its ceaseless fret and fume, and its sputtering 
lights soiling the majesty of the night. 
Mr. Bailey turned over the mare to a small boy who 
had seemingly sprung up, mushroom-like, from the 
earth. "You'll want som.e supper." he said. "There's 
ma waiting for you on the piazza. I ate mine early 
because I've got some trading to do this evening. Come 
out when you're through and see the fun," 
Mrs. Bailey gave us a cordial welcome and swept us 
into the warm kitchen. "Set right down," she said. 
"Everything's nice and hot. Never you mind about me; 
I like to wait." She hustled from stove to table distribut- 
ing viands and conversation with equal lavishness. 
"My, but I had a time last night," she exclaimed. 
"Mr. Bailey was down to the village and there wa3 
nobody here but me and Joe (the small boy) and Louis. 
Who's Louis? He's one of them French-Canadians, and 
if he's a good samj^le then I call 'em a mighty poor lot. 
Well, as I was saying, us three were all alone when up 
drives that worthless Bill Thompson, from down C ■ 
way. Louis had just fini.shed milking the cows and was 
sitting on the woodpile sorter singing to himself in that 
daflfy way he has. Bill, he pulled up and I see that he 
was drunk as a blind owl, but Louis never paid no atten- 
tion to him; went right on singing that outlandish lan- 
j?uage. Bill seemed sorter interested at first, but by and 
by he got mad. 
"I'll learn you not to call me names," he said, climbing 
down out of the wagon and walking over to Louis. 
"Louis looks bad enough to frighten anybody. He's 
about twice as big as Bill, and his face is all covered 
with black hair, like a pirate. I expected to see him take 
Bill and throw him over the barn, and I hoped he would, 
too. But, lands sakes, it was just the other way. Bill 
made a punch at Louis when he was about ten feet off 
and that onery critter fell back on the woodpile just 's 
if he'd been hit. Then he jumped up and ran across the 
yard, took that stonewall like a heifer and went up the 
hill as hard as he could go. Bill started to follow, but 
he hit against the chopping-block and it kinder onsettled 
him. 
"I don't know where Joe was, but he must er seen the 
whole thing, for he came into the kitchen on the run 
and went up the back stairs three at a time. Then I 
heard him get under his bed. A pretty parcel of men 
folks, thinks I to myself. 
"After Bill had sassed the choppmg-block for a spell 
he started for the kitchen. I was mopping up the floor 
with that mop over there, and I gave it an extra good 
sou.se in the bucket of hot soapsuds, and I got to the 
top of the steps just as Bill had his foot on the lowest 
°""''Walk out of here'," says I, "'r I'll take more'n the 
dirt off your face'." . ,., , ,,1 
"I shoved the mop. which was steammg like a kettle 
on the boil, under his nose. 
'^Bill never did like water, hot or cold, and he stepped 
back and let out some awful language. It made me so 
mad I clear forgot myself and charged right down on 
have to laugh when I think of the way that little 
drunken critter put for his team. He got into it on the 
jump and turned it round so quick he cramped the wheels 
and almost tipped over. , , , „ 
"'I ain't the kind to lay hands on a lady, ^says he, 
" 'but if Frenchy'U come down off'n that hill a mmute, i 11 
make hira look like a picked chicken.' 
"He shook his fist at Louis, who was a-settmg way 
uo there on that big rock and dared him to come down: 
but Louis, he seemed to think he was pretty well ott 
where be w^s an4 never btidged a mite, 
Those darned Canadians haven't got any spirit,' says 
Bill. 'Well, I guess I'll be going. There's a man down 
the road a piece I've got to lick.' 
"My, wasn't Mr. Bailey mad when he got home. He 
turned right around and drove all over the country look- 
mg for Bill, but he never caught uprwith him. I'm glad 
of it now. There's no use having any more fuss with 
people than we can help. You don't mean to say you've 
finished? _ Why, you haven't eat a thing!" 
We insisted that we had not only eaten, but eaten well, 
and leaving Mrs. Bailey, smiling broadly over our just 
praises, to "clean up," we lighted our pipes and started 
for the barn. 
A lantern sputtering in the center of the floor threw 
Rembrantesque splashes of light and shadow throughout 
the interior. Half a dozen farmers, seated on pails and 
feed boxes, formed a ragged circle about the upright 
figure of Mr. Bailey, who, hands in pockets and chest 
thrown out, was fervidly descanting upon the merits of 
a certain Jersey. Just without the group stood a tall, old 
man, leaning upon a pitchfork, With his aged hound at 
his feet he might well have posed for an effigy of Natty 
Bumpo resting on his rifle. Marvin had been a famous 
hunter in his day, and even now his lean legs could out- 
tire many a younger pair, while his keen eye had yet to 
find its equal in the district. He had taught Bailey all 
he knew of woodcraft and was rightly proud of his pupil, 
whom he still called "the boy." 
As we joined the old man he threw back his head in 
a noiseless laugh that more than ever emphasized his 
resemblance to Coopers hero. 
"Jest listen to the boy," he exclaimed. "He's as slick 
as the coat of a prize heifer. Lord! he don't know no 
more about when the cow'll calve 'en Benjy does." He 
indicated the hound with a downward nod. 
The unconscious Bailey again declared in his best 
Bryanesque manner that within two months the Jer.sey 
would become the happy mother of the finest calf, sired 
by etc., etc. 
"So you're going to try the birds again this year," said 
old Marvin, his eyes half closed and the group seemed 
to glide away from before him like the sHdes of a magic 
lantern, while he looked into the past. "Well, there's 
a few left, I expect. I've seen most of the four-legged 
critters go. This place was good ground for them once, 
hnt the farms have eaten the heart out of the woods now. 
I'm not complaining; I've had my share of sport from 
kidhood up. Hunting was about all I ever was good for 
and there's som.e'll say I wasn't so bad at that. 
"During the war," he continued with_ a reminiscent 
smile, "I uster shoot quail while I was in picket duty. 
Jest a pinch a powder and a bullet cut up to serve as 
shot. The birds were most almighty tame. 
"It's an odd thing, but I wasn't hit once during the 
whole scrap, and I've been shot all to hell since. There^s 
a dozen number eights in that hand now, put there by 
a feller who thoiigbt he could shoot woodcock. The back 
of my head's like a nutmeg grater. Two of us were out 
after pa'tridge in an alder swamp not far from here. We 
had pretty nearly covered the ground and was jest swing- 
ing together when a bird got up between us, heading 
straight for me. T turned so's to take him as he went 
by and the next thing I knowed a charge of shot took 
m.e in the back of the head hard enough to lift me off 
my feet. When I came to my friend was kneeling in the 
moss, wringing his hands and crying: 'I've killed you, 
Jim Marvin!' 
" 'Not yet,' says I, 'but you've made a pretty good try. 
Get some water, quick!' 
"Well, he got some, and by and by I was able to 
crawl down to the brock myself and soak my scalp. 
There was five holes through each ear, and that shows 
you how well he centered me. We was some time get- 
ting back to the wagon. On the way we flushed two or 
three pa'tridges, and I told him to shoot. 'Not me,' he 
says; 'I've fired a gun for the last time.' He must have 
meant jest that day," added the old man with a twinkle 
in his eye, "for he was out next week sure enough. 
"I've got three or four buckshot planted in this left 
arm. It happened at one of these combination shoots 
one Thanksgiving. Usually I'm pretty good, but that 
day I couldn't connect with anything. Finally I got mad 
and poured in a big charge and topped her off with a fist 
full of double B's. I leant the gun against a fence and 
T guess I must have left both barrels cocked. While I 
was talking to a member of the committee some meddle- 
some mink knocked the gun over, or done something to 
her. He never could sav iust what. At any rate she 
went off— kerwhang— and I felt 's if I had got in front 
of a charge of grape. I jumped 'round and the first 
thing I see was this mink spinning like a top. He spun 
'round about four times and dropped with a yell. Then 
I heard another howl and blame if a small boy half way 
crost the yard didn't begin to spin, too. When he keeled 
over I took a couple of turns myself. 
"However, things weren't so bad as they looked. The 
jav had a piece taken out of his leg and the kid was only 
grazed. I'd collected most of the shot. There was a 
blacksmith shop near there and they lugged me over 
and dug a good many of the B's out with an awl. But 
some was tucked in too deep, and whether it was them 
or whether I got blood poisoning from the awl I didn't 
know. Anyway it was months before my arm got well. 
It kept aching and swelling, and every little while a sore 
would open up and out would pop a buckshot. After 
that I began to think war was the only safe thing for me." 
During the old man's reminiscences Bailey had been 
doing some silver-tongue work. One of the farmers 
had offered a certain number of sheep for the Jersey, but 
Bai'ey was not quite satisfied. 
"Throw in a couple of dollars and she s yours, he 
remarked. , , , t 
More haggling ensued, moistened by frequent attacks 
upon a stone jug of wild-cherry rum. Finally the farmer 
offered to throw in a pair of hogs to make up the dififer- 
enc- and upon this ba.sis the trade was completed. A 
dollar apiece struck us as cheap for hogs and we were 
ready to believe that our host had the better of^tlre 
bargain, • 1 1. ti , 
There was no more trading done that night. 1 ne 
farmers took a farewell swig of wild-cherry rum and 
left the barn. Out in the vard they paused a moment, 
fares lifted to the .skv. while they snuffed the nregnant 
odors of the night. Wet weather was prophesied for the 
tiiorrow, Then tfe horses were •unhitched and one by 
one they rattled away in the misty darkness, the new 
owner of the Jersey towing that reluctant animal in the 
rear of his buggy. 
The morning dawned with a fine rain falling. Patches 
of mist lay in the hollows between the hills, eddying like 
slow smoke; now rising and spreading abroad in thin 
blue veils, now condensing -into banks of pure snow. 
Breakfast was prolonged in the hope that the weather 
would clear, but when the last piece of bacon had van- 
ished and the pipes were produced Mr, Bailey came in 
with the disheartening information that the fog was good 
to hold all day. He fussed aimlessly about the room, 
shedding drops of moisture from his glistening rubber 
coat until his wife could stand it no longer. 
"You're jest ruining this floor," she remarked with 
some asperity. "For goodness sakes find what you want 
and run out." 
"Oh, I ain't after nothing in particular," he said, 
retreating to the doorway. "Leastways " he paused 
and a rueful grin rose to the surface — "if you boys are all 
through p'rhaps you might like to come out in the yard 
a minute." 
We signified our willingness and donning our shooting 
coats followed him toward the barn. When we were out 
of earshot of the kitchen he gave us another rueful smile. 
"It's them hogs!" he exclaimed. "I didn't want the 
old wom^an to know, but he's surely done me on them 
hogs. Thej' just came this morning. One of em's got 
tuberculosis and the other , well, the other's a sight. 
Come and look at 'em." 
He led the way to the pen under the barn. In the 
darkness we could vaguely distinguish two forms recum- 
bent on the steaming manure. One of them — a white 
one — ^staggered to his feet and began a retreat to the 
opposite end of the pen, but his strength gave out and 
he fell in the muck, breathing stentorously. 
"That's the tuberculosis one," said Bailey. "Now look 
at this critter." 
The other, black save for a pallid spot or two on the 
rump, had also arisen to its feet and stood eyeing us — 
cr trying 10. It's head was joined to its body at an angle 
of almost 45 degrees. It looked as if some one had tried 
to wring its neck and desisted when half through. 
"It's a Phattfacia Upsidownia," he exclaimed, mis- 
quoting Lear. 
"Maybe," said Bailey. "I never heard the scientific 
name before, and I never see one like it, either. They're 
butes, both of 'em, ain't they?" 
They certainly were unique. The bacon we had just 
eaten lay heavily on our stomachs as we gazed. 
"What tire you going to do with them?" we asked at 
len.gth. 
Bailey's' expression became more cheerful. "Oh, I 
reckon I can trade 'em off somehow," he replied. "I'm 
going to get rid of the rest of my cows to-day, and there's 
sure to be some 'suckers along. They only stand me two 
dollars, anyway." 
"You're a wizard if you do it," we said. 
AVe pottered about the barn an hour or so, visiting 
poor Hal and his eager little sister. Finally it was 
decided that wet or no wet we would take a short tramp. 
With Lady ran.ging joyfully ahead we crossed the pas- 
ture at the rear of the house and entered a long swale, 
where in times past we had always found a few birds. 
The brook was stone dry. however, and the covert had 
probably not been used for some time. The only thing 
that Lady found to interest her was a forlorn turtle 
laboriously crawling through the brush in search of some 
pool. 
As the day lightened a little we kept on toward a good- 
sized sheet of water a couple of miles distant, which we 
judged had resisted the drouth. To a certain extent it 
had, but it had shrunk mightily— was a mere frog;pond 
in a setting of black mud. One tiny rivulet still trickled 
into it and following the course of this Lady came on 
her first quarry. She made a Very pretty point on my 
side of the brook, the bird— a young cock partridge— lying 
well. Thanks to the open nature of the ground, I scored 
a clean kill. 
Half an hour later I made an inexcusable miss. The 
bird flushed on the edge of the woods and flew directly 
across the pond, the charge from each barrel rippling the 
water behind her. This was the last partridge we saw. 
and having completed the circuit of the watershed, and 
eaten our lunch under a dripping pine, we returned to the 
farm wet through and somewhat out of sorts. My com- 
panion had not had a shot. 
Bailey was out and he did not come in to supper, 
though we heard him drive into the yard. Presently 
toe entered in a state of excitement with the announce- 
ment that the hogs had been traded. We asked what 
Bailey had got in exchange. 
"Fourteen hens," he replied, exultantly; "and they're 
worth fifty cents apiece. He's gone off to get 'em now." 
We stepped out on the veranda to see the man who 
would give seven dollars worth ©f hens for a pair of dol- 
lar hogs. The pigs were crated and in the wagon. The 
farmer, a long, lank individual, in winter overcoat and 
arctics, held aloft a lantern, while his hired man nailed 
down 'he top slats. The hogs seemed ominously quiet. 
As the last nail went home Mrs. Bailey's voice was heard 
hospitabty inviting the men to come in and take a parting 
drink of the wild-cherry rum, it seeming that no trade 
could be bindin.g without this ceremony. 
We all filed in, the hired man ridding himself some- 
what regretfully of a large cud of tobacco, and stood 
around the hot stove while Mrs. Bailey filled our glasses. 
When we had crooked our elbows the hired man with- 
drew, while his master lingered for a few moments' gos- 
sip. He was becoming logical under the influence of 
a second glass, when an uproar from the yard interrupted 
him. 
"That's Bob," he said. "Wonder what's the matter?" 
We ran out. Bob, in an attitude of despair, knelt on 
the wagon seat, peering into the crate. 
"Suthin's the trouble with the white hog!" he ex- 
claimed. , , , , , , 
We clustered about the wagon, while the farmer held 
up the lantern. The white hog lay motionless on the 
bottom: the other, his forefeet on the flank of his pros- 
trate friend, seemed to have a certain sad knowingness 
in the cast of h's head. , , , . . ' 
Bob ripped off a couple of slats and fetched the victim 
of tuberculosis a ?mart rap with Ms harnmer, There 
was not a quiver in responae- 
