Dec. sS, 1901.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
SC0 
TOW shirts, for he had plenty of his own, and silk ones. 
Furthermore, he had no wish to be chief at a small place 
iike Faleapuna. In fact he had tried to communicate to 
me his purpose of going out on the bonito fishing, but 
;as the bonito is himself a chief, and must only be men- 
itioned in a special language of courtesy, I had failed to 
■comprehend the exact purport of his remarks. Laulu 
:sat by, looking as good as gold, while his loyal little 
■wife put all the blame on me, and his only comment was 
ito say yes and noe, "loc" and "Leai," at the proper in- 
itervals, and in the meanwhile to keep up a soft clucking 
as though calling chickens, which is a compliment of the 
higher Sanioan courtesy, in which duties of the gentle- 
man he was thoroughly posted. 
Then Tonga's own maid rolled her mistress a cigarette, 
Tonga puffed it bright and passed it to Laulu. In the 
language of diplomacy, the incident was closed. But I'd 
give six bits to know what was taking La,ulu toward the 
rebel country that night. 
Llewella Pierce Chxjrchill. 
Luck With a Meat Gun, 
I BELIEVE it was Didymus who not long ago seemed to 
imply by a kind of an allusional intimation in Forest 
AND Stream, that inferentially I am possibly a back 
number. Let me protest that I will not permit myself 
to be tossed into antiquity by any man with the clear 
brain, the sentiments that "smell April and May" and 
whose words fly to their mark with snap shot accuracy 
and precision. While his sentences whirr with the whis- 
tling wings of autumn and ripple with the purl of June 
waters, eddying by mossy banks, is he going to tell us 
he has had his day, give way to a "younger genera- 
tion" and try and take some of us with him? 
The disciples of rod and gun — particularly of Forest 
AND Stream denomination, are never blasted with 
antiquity. Of what use are all tlic trophies we have 
garnered, the memories that enrich the soul, if we are 
going to turn turtle because of an ache or so more or 
less in our bones, a little dimness of an eye or an un- 
steady group of muscles or glands? Zounds! I will, 
like Jack Falstaff, have my brains taken out and but- 
tered and give them to a dog for a New Year's gift be- 
fore I will succumb to later comers. 
I have never quite realized the virtues of a meat dog, 
but, know all men, that I carry a meat gun. I have an 
aspiring dog and a meat gun, and when the dog does not 
anticipate my operations and go groggy with excitement, 
scaring everything out of range, there is not a white flag 
in the mountains that can bounce in view at 300 yards 
' with impunity twice. 
My rifle, as I say, is a meat gun. My dog was in- 
tended by Providence for pastoral rather than hunting 
purposes, but he is nevertheless aspiring, and now and 
then a possibility. His most commendable attribute is 
his ubiquity, or perhaps it is faithfulness, particularly 
when a hunt is in prospect. When I go, Shep goes 
along. Whether I want him or not is outside his capa- 
city or understanding. If his ambition was tempered 
with judgment, what a dog he would_ be! Ambition is 
sometimes a disease, Caesar was ambitious. 
Shep has scared a hundred big deer directly out of 
range of my meat gun, has barked up many a wrong 
tree, bayed the moon with utter depravity, and done ec- 
centric things generally. If he knows or hears tell of 
a skunk within four miles of us he looks it up im- 
mediately, barks at it until it is at the very zenith of its 
ability — then he kills it and brings the concentrated es- 
sence of its glory home with him. This triumphant 
spoil of his usually does not wither until his next ex- 
pedition. 
Notwithstanding these things, together with other un- 
creditable accomplishments, Shep's account is fully bal- 
anced, with enough to spare to warrant him the pension 
he requires to keep the little lamps of light in his eyes 
until time or fate extinguishes them. His welcome 
bark and his eternal readiness to go or come to or from 
any expedition are worth a scared deer or so. 
The long dry summer ended with a good soaking 
shower in October. The dry leaves, pine needles and 
dead brush were soaked. In the evening the rain ceased, 
the sky partly cleared and it was just cold enough. An- 
other day and the close season for deer began. There 
was no meat in the house. 
I found myself that evening inspecting, cleaning and 
oiling the meat gun at the "ranch." My indomitable 
friend, Shep, was at the door with his usual symptoms of 
anticipation. There were but six cartridges, the gun was 
somewhat rusted and looked singularly unpromising. 
In all probability there was ntit a deer track within three 
miles. The mountainsides looked steener than ever, and 
I went to bed undecided as to getting up early, or 
whether to go hunting or do without meat. Venison is dry 
meat anyhow. 
As it happened, I was up early, the mornmg was 
a clear, bracing mountain affair in which it is impos- 
sible to f'eel lazy. To turn the scale of doubt, Shep had 
plainly not forgotten the incident of preparation the 
evening before, and now by stretching, prancing and 
other gymnastics signified his readiness and confidence. 
Putting up a lunch, and contemplating a long, hard 
climb up the mountain, we started out for meat. 
The house is in the pine woods, and the mountains 
begin all around it. Selecting the most gradual slope, 
the zealous dog a rod in advance and excited to start, we 
set. out. The rain had made the ground soft and yield- 
ing, and as it was covered deep with the pine needles in 
most places, our movements were silent. We (Shep and 
T) had gone but a short distance when I saw a small 
black animal with white stripes meandering in some 
bushes. It was the real thing — nothing under the sun 
in the golden West smells like it. It smells longer and 
louder and more insistently than a rotten mackerel by 
moonlight, or any notorious thing whatsoever. 
Shep immediately detected the striped and impending 
disaster. He' was full of ambition and desire to exhibit 
strenuosity, open battle and let come what might. I 
could hear his heart beat his ribs as he prepared to 
charge. In anxious anticipation he could already taste 
victory, and he began to slobber in his expectancy. With 
notable presence of mind, I succeeded in suppressing 
3hep. Permitting th^ threatening calamity to §ftunter 
iii the independent and leisurely insolence peculiar to its 
kind alone. Shep was grievously disappointed, and cast 
many a longing, lingering look behind, as I urged him 
away from there by the most direct course possible. 
After we had achieved safe distance we looked back and 
saw that the little bushy terror of the rocks was still 
there, waving his plumed tail complacently, if not re- 
gretfully. 
Luck was with us. The escape was narrow, but any 
kind of an escape was satisfactory to me, Shep's re- 
grets were soon forgotten, for he never broods over 
disappointments, owing either to an excess of enter- 
prise or an unstable memory. 
We had not gone far and were not yet a half mile 
from the house, when my infallible four-footed friend, 
with nose in air. feet lifted high and set down cautiously, 
it-timated that he had wind of game. At first I thought 
he was blufiing, and then I wondered if whatever it was 
had stripes on its back. In all probability it was the 
mate to the little beauty we had passed a short distance 
down the hill. Shep was insistent, and looked alertly 
ahead, and now and then glanced back at me, with a 
very wise expression upon his face. With a hunter's in- 
stinct, I let my rifle slide from my shoulder to the hollow 
of my left arm, while my finger tested the set trigger. 
We approached the top of a steep ravine, fairly in 
sight of the house, and as yet had not seen a deer track. 
Your true hunter is not often open to surprise in the 
woods, and as the ravine was thickly wooded with black 
oaks, with some underbrush, and as Shep was becoming 
more confident in his assumption of wiseness, I drew 
back the hammer of the rifle, letting the barrel slip to 
my left hand, while my right held the arm at a half 
ready. 
The climbing was steep, and every step lifted. me until 
I could see more and mor^ of the little half circle of 
sheltered bench at the extreme head of the ravine, under 
the oaks. I succeeded in restraining Shep, so that at all 
times I could see further than he over the bank, be- 
cause my head was the highest. As the rim of my hat 
rose above the last bit of the bank, letting me see the 
furthest nook, there was the sudden shake of a bush and 
a slight stir of leaves. Half blended with the back- 
ground of blue brush, fully alert and ready for instant 
spring, stood in clear outlines a splendid buck. Like 
the deer described by Walter Scott, 
As Chief who hears his warder call, 
"To arms! The focmen storm the wall," 
The antlered monarch of the waste 
Sprung £i-om his heathery couch in haste. 
But ere his fleet career he took, 
The dewdrops from his flanks he shook; 
Like crested leader, proud and high, 
Toss'd his beamed frontlet to the sky; 
An instant gazed adown the dale, 
An instant snuff'd the tainted gale — 
Then, as the headmost foe appear'd. 
With one brave bound the copse he clear'd, 
And, stretching forward— — " 
There the simile ends. In this case there was no troop 
of mounted huntsmen or pack of fleet hounds to outrun 
for his life. There was nothing but Ransacker and a 
shepherd dog, neither of whom was likely to give the 
monarch a long or a hard run. Bvtt the former of his 
foes bore in his hands an implement that rules the 
world. The deer but saw the top of a soft hat which 
he could make out. The next instant there was a burst 
of flame and smoke, with a sharp explosion, that caused 
him to make his frantic leap into the little ravine. 
Almost as instantly _ Shep started forward and had 
whisked out of view in pursuit before the wreath of 
smoke from the meat gun had cleared. There was the 
unmistakable sound of a deer bounding down the rocky 
ravine, with the dog in full cry close upon him. Mut- 
tering my disappointment as I threw a fresh cartridge 
into the gun, I sprang aroiind a point of brush just in 
tiine to see a single dip of the white flag as it went over 
a rocky knoll upon the ridge opposite, the bearer of it 
rapidly distancing Shep over the broken ground. 
Marking with my eye the course of the deer, where he 
disappeared, I took the shortest way across the 
ravine, finding without difficulty his tracks in the 
soft ground where there were no rocks. Follow- 
ing the tracks to the top of the ridge, I could 
then hear Shep crying as he ran, now half a 
mile distant. Worse than this, a close search of the 
ground did not show a drop of blood, nor was the 
quickness of the deer's departure any evidence that he 
had been wounded. I followed on, thinking the hunt for 
the day spoiled, but as a matter of principle determined 
to track the deer as long as there was a remote chance 
of his having been hit. I had taken a fair shot at him 
standing, not 75 yards distant, and I still insist that I 
carry a meat gun. However, twigs, deflected light and 
the instant movements of deer will sometimes swindle 
the best of us. 
For half an hour I followed on the track. Every 
eight or ten feet the sharp toes of the deer had torn the 
ground. Every toe was in its proper place, as shown 
by the punctured soil. My hat would cover them all 
where a regular intervals they struck. There was no 
sign of blood, and the course of the deer around, instead 
of down the mountain, as well as the now distant and 
defeated bark of the dog, all attested the deer was un- 
hurt. 
In a quandary as to whether to continue the hunt by 
changing my course, I sat down to await the return of 
Shep, examine the sights of the meat gun, and wonder 
if there had been a bullet in the cartridge I had fired. If 
I could not hit a deer like that at such a distance there 
seemed little use in making a longer climb up the 
mountain. About the time I had decided to go home 
and sulk, Shep came back. His tongue was extended 
after his hard run. but, contrary to his custom, instead 
of coming to me after driving the deer out of the region, 
he gave a sharp bark, wagged his tail and kept on along 
the back track. More than this, there was such a satis- 
fied expression upon his face, I thought I would follow 
and see what he meant. I saw him pass over again to the 
ravine where I had shot at the deer, while several times 
he halted to see what I was doing, ''Thinks he will 
|inci another to chase," I muttered. ■ - 
After he had time to reach the ravine and did not re- 
turn I concluded to go over and see what new wrinkle 
he was working this time. It was a steep, hard climb 
again, directly away from the easiest way home. Half 
a nhour and I had reached the spot opposite where I 
had fired from. Shortly I heard the movements of my 
erratic dog in the brushy part of the gulch. "He is 
fooling around the water," I said to myself, but as I 
wanted a drink, I clambered down. Shep was lying con- 
tentedly upon the leaves wagging his bushy tail as 
though he had done everything necessary. Ten feet 
from him, with antlers braced against the bushes, as 
though he was sleeping peacefully, there lay the big- 
gest and best deer in the woods. He was shot through 
the heart, and had only made about two jumps after the 
meat gun had spoken. 
Ever see a deer lying that way when yoU least ex- 
pected it? Well, this one was as sleek as a mole, a 
five-pointer, and the only mark upon him was a punc- 
tured brisket that could only be discovered upon close 
examination. As he lay he would weigh nearly 200 
pounds. He was too fat to skin easily, the tallow being 
nearly an inch thick on his ribs. 
I sat down and communed with Shep, and tried con- 
scientiously to figure out whether he was entitled to 
credit or blame, and I am not yet clear upon the point 
in this case. I do not think I would have found the 
deer without him, but I might. If not, then I might 
have foimd others, What business had he to break and 
follow the deer I had not shot at? I would have got 
both, perhaps; at any rate, I would not have gone climb- 
ing the rocky hill on his tracks. On the other hand, 
Shep might have argued that he found the deer, that it 
was not his fault if I didn't know when the deer was 
killed. How was he to know that the second deer might 
not be stopped also if he tried? Anyhow, he seemed to 
say, "There's your deer; that's all the meat we want." 
When a deer is killed on a mountain the excitement 
ends and the sport is over. The work then stares a 
fellow of a placid disposition not only in the face, but 
out of countenance._ This deer when dressed would be 
all I could lift, more than I could carry over such 
ground. I therefore decided to get Jim's horse and 
pack the deer in. Taking the head and horns and my 
gun, I went the short distance to the house, where for- 
tunately I found the horse just in from the hills. 
Jim's horse is one that everybody else had no use for, 
and he came by him naturally. He has had horses of a 
similar description for years. This one he calls Baldy, 
for no apparent reason, but it would make no difiference 
what he might be called. Nobody but Jim would ever 
call him. Not by the same name twice, certainly. 
Baldy was lounging against a fence, dreaming of his 
coltish days, when he must have followed sonie emigrant 
wagon across the plains before the war. His off front 
leg is comparatively sound, but notwithstanding this dis- 
advantage to the rest of his anatomy, he maintains a 
good digestion, and can get over tlie ground if he has 
all the time there is. He is supposed to pack anything 
that he can carry, and is as gentle as a lamb — even as a 
dead one. 
I put a pack saddle upon Baldy, and eventually got 
him up to where the deer was. I led the horse into the 
ravine and dragged the deer to the bank above him. He 
stood like a saw-buck as I lifted the deer to his back 
and had it almost into the saddle. At about that time 
the deer and myself became intiinately associated in the 
hazardous enterprise of sliding down the rocky bank, 
while in the confusion I believe that aged and docile 
steed stood on his sound leg and kicked with _ his 
other three. Together with the deer I got down into 
the gully, while the horse got out of it on to the bank. 
In the entertainment in which we participated the horse 
seemed to think he had done everything necessary, and 
he then assumed his customary attitude, resting upon 
his straight leg, awaiting further opportunity very pa- 
tiently. 
In our mix-up and rapid change of positions, the 
deer had been some protection, and I was not kicked by 
the talented old fraud, who I could see had, as he 
thought, every reason to congratulate himself. When he 
saw me emerge from the gully and regain a hold on his 
halter he had a startled expression upon his face. I 
fastened him to a tree, and he thereupon hung back and 
shut his eyes in anticipation of the lamming he deserved. 
There was a surprise in store for him, for I never 
touched him. It would have been a waste of time and 
labor. I dressed and quartered the deer, put it in sacks 
and burlap brought along, and took the noble equine 
into the gully again, blindfolded him, and then fastened 
the deer to the saddle piece by piece. I then led him 
out of the ravine, and he leisurely made his way home 
without further attention than a pebble tossed at him 
now and then to keep him awake. 
As a matter of course, my dog Shep was actively en- 
gaged at all times, as he never misses a trip. He hunted 
up the striped terror of the rocks, and had a strictly 
business interview with that creature. I did not see the 
result, nor hear the discussion, but there is no question 
about its having taken place. 
Ransacker. 
Shasta Moumtains, Cal., November. 
The Bittef and the Sweet. 
Some weeks ago the New York daily papers contained 
accounts of the killing* of an eagle near Tremont. The 
slayer of the eagle — which is, of course, a protected bird — 
was duly located by Mr. J. E. Overton, the game and fish 
protector, and he recently came to the office of the Forest. 
Fish and Game Commission in New York and paid $25 in 
settlement of his offense against the law. 
The "eagle" proved to be a turkey buzzard (Cathartes 
aura), a species quite unusual in this vicinity, though 
occurring more frequently in New Jersey and to the 
southward. Turkey buzzards are commonly protected all 
over the country. 
Frank W. Bruns, who was arrested last May by Mr. 
Overton for selling game out of season, has, it is under- 
stood, settled for his offense by paying to the Forest, Fish 
and Game Commission the sum of $650. This must repr^, 
^ent the profits made on quite a lot of illegal game. 
