Jan. i£, 1992. j 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
46 
gieen, and seemed to be living. It was in marked con- 
trast to the black streams of. the Adirondacks, and the 
yellow of New York and Pennsylvania. 
Here and there, in road side brush, I saw some box 
craps of; a size to catch little gray rabbits. The bottoms 
suggested quail and the mountain sides ruffed grouse. 
But I could not stop to look for the birds. It seemed as 
though I could not go fast enough. Four or five miles 
up (south) 1 came 10 a deep rock-sided gorge, a gap 
worn by a stream th rough the mountain ridge. My road 
led up this and then into 3 feet of water 20 yards wide 
and out on the far side. I remembered some boys 
skating on a cove or bayou a couple of miles back, 
looked at some white icicles bearding the rocks here 
and there, and then hunted a dry crossing up stream. I 
Succeeded in crossing on rocks and a log dry shod a few 
hm.dred yards up, and came into' the main road without 
losii g a dozen rods. 
Seven miles from Romney I came to a regular stop- 
ping place of the Moorfield stage. Moorfield was twenty 
miles away. I decided that I ought to take the stage 
and get over the divide at Monterey as quickly as pos- 
sible. The divide is 3,350 feet above the level of the 
sea, and catches snow often where a thousand feet lower 
it rains. The stage came along and I boarded it with 
my pack. 
Gibson Parker was the driver, and A. S. Veach the 
passenger. Veach is in the Revenue service. He prom- 
ised me a long ride next day if I'd wait at Moorfield, the 
court house of Hardy County. He didn't stop for me 
when he came past, so I lost four hours for the experi- 
ence. " 
Parker was different. He runs a hotel at Romney; 
he oversees four or five farms thereabouts; he drives 
stage for his health, thirty miles a day; he does cabinet 
,work, and works in iron; he's a wheelwright and wagon 
worker. These, I think, are the serious occupations of 
his life. We roomed together at the Moorfield Hotel. 
I The open fireplace, with a cheerful blaze, was exceed- 
ingly pleasing, was a novelty to me as well. With 
Parker before it, it made an incident I'll not soon for- 
get. He played on a banjo, then sweetly on a guitar; he 
followed these with selections on a violin; then he 
played the guitar and French harp (mouth organ or 
harmonica) together. He took a two years' course in 
a Chicago theatrical school once, and gave imitations 
of Italian, Chinese, Hebrew, German, etc., talk. Some- 
thing of an athlete, contortionist and boxer beside the 
rest, he stated his preference in literature to be Ruskin's 
"St. Elmo.'' His studies had taken him through college 
and led him into mesmerism, hypnotism and "especially 
human nature." He promised to send me an 
nteresting page or two from his diary, a prom- 
ise, T hope, he will be able to keep. A tall, 
slender young man, with dark hair and eyes and 
shapely features, a good dresser — few can hope to be 
more popular than he. As mail carrier and stage driver 
it is necessary that he should go armed. He carries 
three fine hammerless revolvers; one a .32 caliber and 
two .38 caliber ones. I observed that he handled them 
with experienced care. 
It was Thanksgiving Day when I got to Moorfield, 
and I ate turkey for supper.' On the following morn- 
ing, while I was waiting for Veach, I had a chance to 
watch the streets. A man rode into town on horseback 
with a Winchester across the pommel of his saddle. 
Several well-dressed and comely girls walked past. Two 
cattle drovers made a deal in the hotel office by which 
300 head of two-year-olds changed hands for spot cash. 
A young man walked up a side street and came back 
an hour later decidedly the worse for it — a "speak- 
easy's up there," somebody said. Two old-time darkies 
stood on the road crossing for a few minutes, talking. 
They turned their backs on each other and talked over 
their shoulders, one looking at the sky and the other at 
the ground, perhaps an old slave day habit. One would 
know that the men are used to riding horseback a good 
deal — their leather booted legs and driving gloves show 
it. Veach passed without stopping. 
After dinner I started up the road headed for Peters- 
burg, Grant County. About a mile out I got a ride on an 
empty corn wagon. A man on horseback overhauled us, 
and he wanted to see the little rifle; then he wanted to 
borrow it. He told of a man known to the driver. "He 
tried to drive me out," the equestrian said. "He wanted 
to fight, too, and came at me swinging his fists. But I 
had my Winchester on my shoulder. 'Stand back, thar !' 
I said, 'I don't want to fight,' covering him. He said 
he wanted to fight fair, jumped upjn the air and cracked 
his heels together outside, but I didn't want to fight, and 
I didn't." 
Several large birds circling overhead like hawks at- 
tracted my attention. 
"What are those birds?" I asked the driver. 
"Turkey buzzards," he replied. "Let an animal die 
and you'd see them thick." 
They were the first buzzards I ever saw. 
After a ride of nearly five miles I went on my way 
afoot again. The road, instead of following the main 
stream, went up a "branch" or brook and over a divide 
to the river again. In this way fords and washouts are 
avoided. It is the common practice south of the Po- 
tomac apparently. I came to the river again at Peters- 
burg Gap — a great river cut through the mountain ridge. 
Rock cliffs are on each side of the stream. A large cave 
is in one place, where saltpetre was mined during the 
distressing days of the Civil War. On the south side 
(east) are the figures of many animals, which,the native 
can point out — there is a semblance to a fox, a coon, an 
ox, etc., done in red on gray, by nature. It is said In- 
dians also did some painting there once. While I was 
looking for the figures I heard a gun shot across the 
river just below the gap. I could see no one that way, 
hut at Petersburg, a couple of hours later I saw a 20- 
pound wild '-obbler which the shot had killed. It was a 
handsome bird, with feathers that gleamed bronze in the 
lamp light. The river in the gap was covered with ice 
an inch or more thick. The reflections on it were very 
sharp and vivid — sycamores, oaks and rocks were clear 
cut. A mountain to the east, blue-black, with a back- 
ground of white tracery, was especially clear. It was 
one of the scenes one remembers for its striking beauty. 
They say at Petersburg that there are lots of bass in 
the river there, big fellows which the bid darky down at 
the gap catches, and little ones which Some visitors 
catch. Six-oounders have been taken there, and more 
than a hundred fish have been brought in by a few fish- 
ermen in a morning. Artificial flies, minnows and 
worms are used for bait. A commercial traveler said 
"little green toads" were used sometimes, too. 
The local papers thoughout West Virginia contain 
many hunting items each week. In the Grant County 
Press for Nov. 29 the killing of a dozen or so deer was 
noted. "On last Monday Robert Whiteman killed an- 
other fine deer, making a long-range shot with a Win- 
chester rifle at a distance of 430 yards," a tolerably long 
shot, hunters will admit. 
Another interesting item was: 
"NOT A VIOLATION." 
"The prosecuting attorney, by reason of numerous 
inquiries, desires us to say for information to interested 
persons that it is not a violation of the law to kill 
skunks or polecats in Grant county." 
Another item reads: 
"A Considerable excitement was created in South 
Fofk, in Pendleton county, first of the week over the 
loss of a horse by one Brady. Later it developed that 
Sam Guthrie had ridden it away some distance, where 
he let it loose to go its way." A mild way of putting it. 
The same issue states that, "Samuel Guthrie has been 
lodged in jail at Moorfield charged with stealing a val- 
uable rifle from Camden Strawdenman, of Lost River. 
Sam seems to be a bad man. 
A deal of the bottom lands throughout the South 
Potomac Valley is posted, and more is posted every 
week. Notices that certain farms have been closed to 
trespassers appear in local papers every issue. Game Is 
growing so scarce that the people begin to realize the 
necessity of doing something to preserve it. But posting 
does not serve the end desired. I saw a West Virginia 
store with dozens of quail, ruffed grouse and rabbits 
hanging in the back room. The store-keepers' farms are 
all posted. Eight cents a pound is paid for wild tur- 
key in West Virginia; it brings 12 at Monterey, in Vir- 
ginia, just over the line. 
On the morning of the 30th I sent my pack by stage to 
Brushy Run, fifteen miles away, and followed after on 
foot, carrrying my rifle and camera. I ate dinner eight 
miles away, after a walk up "runs" and along sidehills. 
Over the ridge to the west was a country I would like 
to have seen — the North Fork of the South Branch of 
the Potomac. It's a wild, "rough" country there, ac- 
cording to all accounts, with lots of game, the home of the 
moonshiners, and noted in the bid days for its Indian 
fighters and pioneer life. 
. After dinner I went on nearly to Brushy Run, when 
Adam Ours on a white horse overtook me. Over on 
the North Fork last August a land slip came down the 
mountain and carried away Ours' house, with him and 
his family in it. With his wife, two girls and a three 
weeks' old baby, he sat from 10 o'clock at night until ' 
daylight next morning in the ruins while the rain 
poured down on them all. They did not even catch 
colds. Another slip killed Ours' sister and destroyed 
his mother's house. He was tired of riding, and he 
gave me a horseback ride. I mounted awkwardly 
enough, but the riding was a comfortable change for a 
mile. 
At Brushy Run I took my pack and carried it five 
miles further. At Upper Tract, where I hoped to stop, 
there was no one "prepared to take a traveler in." But 
at last I rea'ched Mrs. Mary Ryman's, at whose gate a 
sign reads: d . ■ 4 
TRAVELERS' 
REST. 
A hundred yards back in the field I went into a white 
picket fence inclosure, found my way to the house door 
and received a welcome. I had walked twenty miles 
that day, the last five with my pack on my back. I was 
ready to sit down then, 
Raymond S. Spears, i.: 
The "Mediator's" Cry. 
Waverly, Mass.— Editor Forest and Sream: Mr. Hol- 
man F. Day's story, "A Cry in the Night," which ap- 
peared in the current number of your valued paper, was 
certainly most interesting and well told. A possible ex- 
planation of the "mystery that is almost uncanny," may 
be this: It is well known that a solid homogeneous 
substance is a much better conductor of sound than the 
air or any medium in which there are breaks of continu- 
ity or variations in density. 
Now, Mr. Meigs lay on a bunk, how near the 
ground is not stated, nor are we told whether his head 
was near the wall or a post in the ground. But if the 
conditions near him were favorable to the transmission 
of sound, it is not difficult to believe that, as the ex- 
hausted "mediator" fell to the frozen ground and cried 
out for help, that excellent conductor of sound trans- 
mitted it to the cabin and to the recumbent Mr. Meigs' 
ear. We all know that sound so faint as to be in- 
audible to one standing, may be heard by one with his 
ear to the ground. 
It is to be noted, too, that the attention of all in 
the camp but that of him who heard the cry for help was 
engaged with their talk and game of ped. It was 
naturally the attention of Mr. Meigs that caught the 
faint shout. 
A.s in a state of extreme exhaustion, the acuteness of 
the senses fail, it is probable that the mediator suc- 
ceeded in shouting louder than he thought he did. 
The admirably worked up stage setting of ten thou- 
sand spirits, etc., needs no explanation, as they are of 
course nothing but the hallucinations of the deluded old 
mediator and are practically treated as such by the 
author. 
To me the feature hardest to explain in this ad- 
mirable story is that one of the searchers should go 
straight t'o the lost man. This is the only point that 
savors of the fortuitous circumstance or coincidence. 
Grapho. 
Some Knowing Animals. 
I take my stand beside those who advance the opinion 
that animals do reason. My assertion is not based on 
theory, but on actual demonstration witnessed by myself, 
and after long consideration. 
A little mare of mine knows when it is Sunday as well 
as I do. When there is company to go from the farm to 
the trolley on Sunday, the mare knows it, and acts ac- 
cordingly. The reins need not be touched, and no atten- 
tion whatever paid to the mare; still, she takes the nearest 
course to her destination. The proof that she knows it is 
Sunday lies in the fact that she has been driven over the 
main road from which the branch road leads to the 
trolley nearly every working day for the last eleven years; 
yet she pays no attention to the branch road on any other 
day than Sunday. She also knows the Winchester Re- 
peating Arms Company's whistle, and when I used to 
leave her standing in front of my father's house, while 
I called a few moments on my drive in from the country, 
mornings, just as soon as the whistle would blow for 
quarter of seven, Topsy would whinnie loud and long, 
paw impatiently and look for me to come out of the 
house. She was saying as well as she was able: "Come, 
there goes the first whistle; come, or you will be late.*' 
The stable where I keep her through the day is in no way 
connected with the Winchester works. Now, why should 
my mare notice one certain factory whistle, and no other, 
and strive to call my attention to it, unless she reasons 
that my actions are in some way controlled by the 
whistle? What influence is it that guides her to the trol- 
ley on Sunday and on no other day, unless she possessej 
the faculty to reason? Topsy is very intelligent in other 
ways, but lack of space forbids mentioning them at this 
time. 
Recently I have been using a new horse, one strange 
to my drive. The second day I used him it was not 
necessary to guide him to the stable where I keep him; 
and now, after using him a week, on a five-mile drive, 
morning and night, the reins need not be touched within 
half a mile or more of each termination, and the horse 
will go the right road without guiding and st'jp just 
where it is right to stop. How can this stra>.ge horse 
know each end of this new route unless he has reasoned 
it out? If a human being finds his way readily over a 
new road over which he has traveled but once, why 
should we accredit it to reason in him and instinct in a 
dumb animal that does the same thing in the same 
way ? 
In the city of New Haven a newsman, Mr. Hyde, dis- 
tributes his papers with a horse and wagon. He used to 
own an old mare named Kate. While he and his boy dis- 
tributed the papers, old Kate would go intelligently over 
the route without a driver, and having a look of 
responsibility which it was worth going some distance to 
see. She always kept her own side of the road, and 
turned out of her own accord for teams whose human 
drivers were recklessly disregarding rules which she was 
religiously observing. At certain points old Kate would 
stop, and wait for the distributors to replenish their 
diminished supply of papers, then proceed about her 
business again. At other places it was necessary to turn 
around, and many times have I seen the old mare do the 
trick in the most careful manner, her driver not being in 
sight. Perhaps this was all a matter of instinct; but 
a man could devote a life time trying to convince hun- 
dreds of old Kate's acquaintances to that theory, and be 
no nearer the goal at the end than at the beginning. 
Sappho was a woodchuck. She was vainly trying to 
regain the top of the bank of a trout stream one fine 
spring afternoon. The task, however, was too great for 
her baby strength, so-I put her-in my creel and took her 
home. She would eat about everything eatable, but -had 
a decided preference for cake batter. When batter was 
being stirred for cake, Sappho would hear the sound 
come scampering into the house, sit straight up near the 
batter manipulator, and whistle strenuously until fed 
Sappho also did other things intelligently. She would 
play by the hour with the cats, and it was exceedingly 
amusing and interesting to watch her antics. She was 
very affectionate, and liked to be petted. She disappeared 
one day, and I have reason for suspecting a degenerate 
111 human form, who - never yet has been accused of 
having the abiltity to reason, of having shot her. I wish 
I knew positively. 
Ben was our faithful, jolly old bull-terrier. For ten 
years he was a member of the family. Perhaps Ben had 
one bad trait: he would "fight at the drop of a hat!" 
this necessitated keeping him on a chain most of the 
time, although I confess deep admiration for his ability 
as a scrapper. I love a fighter that fights fair, and Ben 
was that kind. I never saw him tackle a dog smaller 
than himself but have seen him whip canines apparently" 
large enough to eat him. 
When on the chain Ben had ways of his own of notify- 
ing us of his wants. A steady succession of low barks 
with a short interval between each bark, indicated that 
it was his meal time. A quick, sharp bark, with long in- 
tervals between each bark, accompanied with low whin- 
ing, indicated thirst. Loud, steady harking mformed v% 
that someone was coming; and spasniu.hc. <-hokine ^-ic- 
ing was his way of letting us knew a dog **» near' and 
that he was anxious to mix with him. At home we are 
aii of the opinion that if the human members of the 
family can reason, then so could Ben. One sorrowful 
day we buried the faithful old fellow under the apple tree 
where^ his house used to stand. ' 
Beside the few animals mentioned above, memorv 
recalls others which I firmly believe were endowed with 
reason. When a horse intelligently demonstrates by 
independent action the identical thing I wish it to do 
then I believe the horse must know I want it to do that 
thing. If it is reason that tells me to feed a horse when 
it is hungry then it is my firm belief that it is also reason 
that tella the horse to convey me to a certain destina- 
tion on a certain day, without being guided by the rein 
If it is reason that conveys the intelligence through a cer" 
tain sound to me that a certain kind of food is being 
