204 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[SfeFf. 14, 1901. 
"We ain't after wolves, j'ou know, and this ain't a quarter 
race." 
Reynolds checked his pony and Beardy Miller galloped 
up alongside. 
"As soon as they strike the bottom," he explained, "it'll 
be slow going. Fine nmsic ihev make, eh? Just listen to 
old Loud." 
"Could hear him ten miles without listening." Reynolds 
answered. "He makes more noise than all the rest put 
together. If they can fight as mh-II as they howl a lobo 
wouldn't be one, two. three with any one of them." 
"Oh, they can fight all right," Beard assured him. 
"Just wait till they tree the critter, and you'll see Bruiser 
give a correct imitation of how a dug should kill a cat." 
With the hounds in full cry before him, his confidence 
in their ability to deal with a single wildcat returned, 
The trail soon led down into a deep hollow, and here 
the dogs experienced the first difficulties of the hunt. The 
cat was employing its most crafty tactics in the endeavor 
to shake oft' its pursuers. A dozen times the hounds lost 
the trail, but Music invariably picked it up again, and 
slowly but surely they closed in on their prey. At Beardy 
Miller's suggestion Re3''nolds followed along the edge 
of the ravine. From this position he could easily follow 
the movements of the dogs, and finally he caught sight of 
the creature they were pursuing. The cat was using all 
its skill in the hopeless attempt to outwit its enemies, and 
Harry felt his sympathies go out to the doomed creature. 
The hounds drew nearer and nearer, and at last the cat 
took refuge in the top of a crooked mesquite tree, and 
crouched among the scraggly brandies. The dogs rushed 
up and hy their loud bajdng announced that they had treed 
their game. Beardy Miller shouted to his friend, and 
Reynolds rode down into the hollow, dismounted and 
joined him. 
"You'll see the fur fly in a minute," Beardy declared. 
"Talk about 3'^otir coyotes. They can't fight in the same 
class with a lively cat." 
The mesquite tree was about the size of a well-grown 
apple tree. Beardy Miller immediately began bombarding 
the tree with stones in* order to dislodge the snarling 
cat, glaring down upon them from its insecure place of 
refuge. A wildcat is anything hut a coward, and when 
one of Beardy Miller's missiles accidentally hit the mark, 
there was a shrill, piercing cry, unpleasant to hear, and 
then something happened. 
Old Loud was sitting beneath the tree, making as much 
noise as possible, and consequent!)- happy for the time 
being. On his upturned, unsuspecting head the bundle of 
teeth and claws and fur suddenly descended from above, 
and his notes of rejoicing ciianged to a howl of pain and 
terrcur. Bruiser answered the cry for help and rushed to 
did Loud's assistance — Bruiser, the fighter of the pack, on 
whose prowess his master had staked his hopes and his 
reputation as a judge of dogs, and Bruiser lasted just 
thirty seconds longer than old Loud. When, with a yelp 
®f distress, he retired from the conilict, the other dogs lost, 
all desire to form a closer acquaintance with their des- 
perajte foe. The wildcat stood crouching in the center of 
an ever-widening circle, and defied them all to "Come on !" 
but no dog took the dare. 
Beardy Miller shouted and swore, but all to no purpose. 
The hounds of whom he had boasted so proudly behaved 
like so many yellow curs. To conceal his chagrin, he drew 
his revolver . and prepared to wreak vengeance on the 
cause ©f his confusion, but the wildcat had an unlooked- 
for champion. Reynolds sprang forward and knocked up 
his friend's arm. 
"Here, Beardy, that's not in the bond," he cried. "The 
dogs were to kill the cat, and if they can't do it the cat 
goes free this time." 
"Don't be a bloomin' idiot," Beardy Miller retorted. 
"That oat's got fo die." 
"Not if I can help it," Reynolds declared. "As referee 
of this affair I declare that the cat has won the fight 
against big odds, and ought to go free. Come, Beardy, be 
a sport. It's fair play always or nothing, you know." 
The cat took advantage of this diversion and made a 
dash for the underbrush. Old Loud was directly in the 
path of the infuriated creature's flight, busily engaged in 
licking his many wounds. Glancing up he saw the cat 
advancing upon him like an enraged fury, and he paused 
not for the fray, but tucked his tail between his legs and 
took a back track for home, making the ravine echo with 
his terrified howls. Beardy Miller was afraid to shoot, for 
fear of wounding the hound, and was forced to resort to 
strong language to relieve his feelings. Reynolds stood 
quietly by enjoying the discomfiture of his friend. The 
cat was soon lost in the deep shadows of the ravine, and 
the sound of old Loud's distressful voice grew fainter and 
fainter, finally dying away in the distance. 
"You're a nice sort of a hunter," Beardy Miller ex- 
claimed in disgust. "What do you suppose we came out 
here for? Just to play pussy wants a corner?" 
"I was invited to see the dogs kill a cat, if I remember 
rightly," Harry answered. "Believe there was some sort 
of a bet made, wasn't there?" 
"The cat wotildn't have got away if it hadn't been for 
you," the other rejoined. " 'Twa'n't a fair bet. The dogs 
got nervous, but they'd have been all right after a bit." 
"Maybe so, Want to try it again?" Reynolds asked, 
good naturedly. 
"Not to-night. Fve had enough for one night. I'll 
double the bet for to-morrow night, though." 
"I'll go you. Reckon we may as well start for home, if 
there are no more cats to kill." 
They mounted their ponies and were soon out on the 
open plain, heading for the B. D'iamond ranch, with the 
crestfallen hounds bringing up the rear. They had gone 
about a mile when a shamefaced dog came slinking up 
and took his place in the extreme rear of the small pro- 
cession. Beardy Miller greeted the new arrival with a 
string of opprobrious epithets. 
"If your bite was as bad as your bark, you old fool," 
he sneered, "you might have some excuse for living. Just 
now you ain't fit for sausage meat, by Godfrey." 
Old Loud — for, of course, it was he — fell back a little 
further, deeming it expedient to put a safe distance be- 
tween himself and his irate master. So soon as they 
came to the ranch the hound went off somewhere in hid- 
ing, and escaped Beardy Miller's wrath. 
When Harry Re3molds appeared at the B. Diamond 
ranch flie next evening he was accompanied by Old Duke. 
"What made you bring him along for?" Beardy in- 
quired, suspiciously. 
"Thought you might like to have him give your dogs a 
lesson or two in fighting," Reynolds replied. 
"Y' don't say so. You forget I owned him before you 
did, and I know all about him. He never fought anything 
but a measly coyote or two when I had him. But 1 
don't mind lettin' my dogs help educate him. Old Loud 
might give him a few pointers on how to make himself 
scarce when he strikes a cat." 
"That was the main reason I brought him along, I con- 
fess," Reynolds assured him. 
It was an hour or two before the dogs struck a fresh 
trail that night. Vv'^hen they finally started away under 
full crj'. Old Duke, who had never for a moment left 
his master's side, looked up in Harry's face inquiringly. 
"Not j'et, old fellow," the latter commanded. "This 
isn't your game, though you may take a hand later on." 
The staghound could not gra,sp the situation, but he 
trusted in his master and curbed his desire to join in the 
chase. 
Old Loud seemed to have forgotten his humiliating ex- 
perience of the night before, or else wished to make atone- 
ment by excelling him.self in his usual vocal efforts. The 
.sound of his voice jarred upon his master's ear. 
"Listen to that star chamber idiot," he called out to 
Reynolds. "The old wienerwurz makes me think of 
Windy Bill Robinson. All blow and no sand. Guess I'll 
make Windy Bill a present of him. They'd make a good 
team." 
"He has what might be called a strenuous voice," Harry 
answered. "I've noticed it before." 
"Strenuous ! It sounds like one of them travelin' Dutch 
bands back East. I used to think it was great, but since 
last night " Beard))- Miller was at a loss for words 
that would properly express his feelings. 
A wildcat always takes to the ct)ver in the nearest ravine 
when pursued. The hunters followed along the edge of 
the hollow, where the chase was in progress, waiting for 
the dogs to tree the cat before taking active part in the 
affair. Old Duke was greatly pe-rplexed at these pro- 
ceedings. If there was any sport on hand he longed to be 
in the thick of it. and he kept one eye on Harry, waiting 
impatiently for the word to "go in." The cat had evi- 
dently played at this game before, and knew many tricks 
that even Mtisic was unacquainted with, for the hounds 
were repeatedly baffled and thrown off the trail. At last,' 
however, the chorus of canine voices sounded the note 
that told their masters that the cat had been brought to 
bay. 
The men quickened their pace and drew near the scene 
of the coming conflict. They dismounted a short distance 
away and approached on foot. Reynolds slipped his hand 
under Old Duke's collar to hold him back when the fight 
began. The cat had chosen a strong position from which 
to give battle to its enemies. One side of the ravine rose 
at this point almost in an abrupt ascent to a height of 
30 or 40 feet. About 10 feet from the bottom of the 
ascent a sharp point of rock jutted out, forming va small 
niche at its base, and in this n'iche, protected on all sides 
save the front, the cat had made its stand. The hounds 
were gathered at a respectful distance from their prey, 
baying furiously, but afraid to attack. Obviously old Loud 
was impressed at the similarity of the present situation 
with that of the night before, for he had taken a .seat, an 
interested, inactive spectator, well to the rear of the con- 
tendihg forces, in an attitude that plainly said: 
"You fellows can go up against that game if you want 
to, but just wait till that thing up there lands on one of 
you." 
Beardy Miller urged on the dogs, but all in vain, Only 
one dog could attack at a time, and none of them was 
willing to be the first to encounter those long, sharp claws. 
"'Give it up, Beardy?" Reynolds called out. Old Duke 
was straining at his collar, and it w^as all Harr\r could do 
to hold him back. 
"Reckon I'll have to," the enraged owner of the fox 
hounds replied. "That cat's got to die. though, and I'm 
goin' to shoot him ; that is," he added, in sarcastic tones, 
"unless you want to try Old Duke on him." 
"All right. Stand aside," Reynolds requested. "Now, 
Duke, go in, and show these dogs how to fight." 
With a savage growl the big staghound rushed forward. 
Withoiit a moment's hesitation he shut his eyes and sprang 
straight at the snarling cat, and, unmindful of the sharp 
teeth and tearing claws, he dragged the struggling crea- 
ture from out its place of refuge and pinned it to the 
ground. With such, a leader Bruiser's lost courage re- 
turned, and he entered into the fight with a vim. It was 
all over after a brief conflict, and then the other dogs 
bravely assaulted the dead body of the wildcat and thought 
much of themselves, accordingly. 
Beardy Miller was strangely silent on the way home. 
EA^er and anon he cast his eyes upon the staghound trot- 
ting at J. C.'s side, and shook his head dubiously. As 
the lights of the B. Diamond ranch appeared, gleaming 
faintly a^ead, he seemed to awaken from his reverie. 
"Fve changed my mind some about sight dogs," he 
drawled. "I never uSed to think they was worth any- 
thing. It's another case of a man's hindsight being better 
than his foresight. I reckon I'll never learn by experience." 
"A fox hound isn't supposed to be a fighter, you know," 
said Reynolds, consoHngly. "The dogs ought to be all 
right at the game after to-night." 
"That's all right, but they ain't supposed to be white- 
livered rabbits, neither, but they are, just the same, and 
it has cost me ten dollars to find it out." 
"But think of the fun we had." 
"Think of it? Oh! I'll think of it all right, ah right. 
I wont think of nothing else for the next month," Beardy 
Mill'er growled. 
Just then old Loud decided that here was the propitious 
mom.ent to reinstate himself in his master's good graces. 
He came bounding forward, and with a joyous bark 
jumped playfully at the buckskin mare's head. 
"As for you," Beardy Miller concluded, turning his at- . 
tention to the fox hound, "as for you, you four-legged 
fog horn, the best thing for you to do is to emigrate to 
Kansas. That's a windy State, and your lovety voice 
would probably just suit 'em, I don't know you, and I 
don't want to have nothin' more to do with you, you 
poor, worthless, onery, lop-eared cuss. Get back where 
you belong and stay there." Fayette Durlin, Jr. 
. Field and Camp Comrades, 
Editor P Oldest and Stremn: 
I have read several very interesting articles in your 
publication treating on the subject of companions on 
iiunting and catnpins.»- trips. Each year, during the montli 
of October, 1 am in the wi!0<ls after big game and the 
recreation I always get from such an outing — and the 
true sportsman who looks forward to this annual trip 
into the forest should give the m-atter of companions due 
consideration. Fur experience has taught me that dis- 
agreeable company can make a hunting trip almost a 
failure .so far as enjoyment is concerned. There is no 
question but one should employ a good guide. They are 
necessary, ami, aside from this, I have found them good 
fellows who do not bore, but often entertain, and, gener- 
ally speaking, I like them. 
It was my grandfather who had the honor of being 
my first companion in the wood.s. He gave me my first 
lessons in woodcraft, and 1 alway;? found him a true and 
reliable guide. It was he who taught me when a boy 
to make box traps, and how to lure the game into them. 
He taught me the habits of fur-bearing animals, and how 
to capture them, and the day he took down the old, long- 
barreled shotgun, whicii years before had been a flint- 
lock, told me to go up in the wood and see what I could 
do, I think was the proudest day of my life. It gave 
my mother a shock she did not get over until she saw 
me back again, but the old gentleman stood up for me, 
and off I started, a very sniall boy, with a big gun and 
great expectations. It was a red squirrel that first 
chanced to cross ray path. He made a bee line for a tall 
maple and, of course, weilt to the top; but grandfather 
had told me the old gun woitld reach anywhere, so, when 
at last Mr, Sciuirrel thon.ght himself su't of harm's way, 
and began to chatter at me. I let her go. Possibly I had 
a touch of "squirrel fever;" at any rate,j^he did not follow 
the example of the coon, and come down, but went just 
a little higher, so I loaded up again, took good- aim this 
time, and down came my squirrel. I hustled home to 
show him up. My grandfather met me in the yard. 
There was a queer smile on his face, which I knew 
meant something. "I got him," I said, holding up my 
prize. "Yes." said the old gentleman, "I see you did; 
but you had to shoot twice." "He was up very high," 
I explained, and, after some instructions in the art of 
careful shooting, it was voted a good shot. 
The dear old man has long since gone to the happy 
hunting grounds. Time has brought many changes, but 
life in the woods is just as sweet to me now as the day 
I shot my first squirrel, and there lingers ^with me still 
the memory of my first and truest hunting companion. 
Neither have I forgotten h's many instructionSj for I 
never draw a bead on a fleeing deer but I seem to see 
perched upon my barrel that frisky red squirrel, and, 
usually, my first shot tells the stoiy. 
There is another very excellent companion whose 
name does not often appear in the hunting and camping 
directory. Hoav many men who enjoy this life in the 
woods ever think of taking their wives along? Just ask 
her once if she would like to go, and, if she makes one 
bound your way, buy her a good Winchester rifle and 
take her ottt for practice. "You will find her an apt 
scholar — quick tc learn — and when she shoots she knows 
(he difference between a hunter and a deer, which is 
more than some men know- After a man has this 
scheme well started, he is always sure of one companion 
each season who will never disappoint him. I «peak 
from experience and would as soon think of going into 
the woods without my rifle as to go without my wife as 
a companion. Some sportsmen may be inchned to differ 
with me here, and belittle the ability of the woman 
hunter. That is all right; you go ahead and have 
your fun; call her a tenderfoot, and ask her what 
ihe would do if she met a bear, climb or shoot? 
She will set her teeth, probably, and say nothing, but at 
the close of some fine day she may wander back to camp 
with a scalp so .strange to you that a natural history may 
be necessary to help you out. But my advice here may 
not apply to all wives, for there is a wide difference in 
the taste of these fair beings. Now, if she stops for a 
moment to consider if a hunting costume will beconje 
her, or if she dare take the chance of missing a single 
pink tea, do not urge her; she is better off at homS, and, 
besides, it m.ight shorten your trip if she were with 
you. 
Going into the woods after game is not the only at- 
traction that should appeal to those who love the sport. 
There is something charming about life in the forest, 
where every leaf that flutters tells a story of real life 
found nowhere else. The city is all right; some one 
must live there: some one must drink the impure waiter 
and eat the adulterated food. We bolt our doors and 
watch our little all. strug.gling all the time for the mighty 
dollar; we tire out at last, and when we can endure it 
no longer we look around for some place to go where 
we can get away from it all; and where can we go? I 
will tell you: Take your wife, she knows all about it 
now; go to the woods of Maine. There are plenty of 
good places; but get away from the railroad, the post- 
office, letters and papers. Go ten, twenty, or even thirty 
miles into the wilderness; there you will find a comfort- 
able log cabin where you can drop your pack and feel 
a"- home. Rest is what you want, and here you will 
surely find it; but you will soon get uneasy, and want to 
go somewhere: follow the trail into the forest. If no 
trail then there must be some spots on each side of an 
occasional tree: follow those little spots; thgy will lead 
vou there and back again: they will lead yon where every- 
thing is real— to springs of water you will never forget, 
ricks that are ricks — trees that are trees. Y'ou have 
left the beaten path of all that is counterfeit; you are 
with nature; all is real and grand. Sit down and look 
about you; give j'our imagination an opportunitj^ and 
you will find yourself surrounded by some of the grand- 
est companions man ever had. The October painter, 
with his brush of green and gold, has written their names 
all around you; and these are among the number — ^The 
Forest and Stream, The Rod and Gun. 
ROXBURY. 
The FoassT and Stream is put to press each week on Tuesday. 
Correspondence intended for publication should reach us at the 
latest by Monday and as much earlier as practicable. 
