e 
fere I heard the old dogs "callin' to de tree," as the 
negroes used to say. He was barking to a tree in the 
field near the road. 
"Come here," said Frank. "Now look right over my 
shoulder. ^ Don't you see his eyes?" 
"Lord, yes !" said Mike. 
"Let me climb the tree and shake him out,, and let's 
have a fight." 
I hallooed to them to shoot it and- let's be moving, as 
we had no time to lose; beside, the tired dogs were 
howling and trying to break loose to get to the fun. 
"Let me shoot," they all said at once. 
"Fire away," said Frank. 
And they did, and out dropped two large coons; one 
they killed; the other ran off, and Tweed and the boys 
(who had forgotten to shoot it) were running with all 
their might after it. The dog soon had it. 
"Hang them on the outside of the wagon," I told 
them, "and let's be going." Which they quickly did, and 
were soon inside the wagon and were sound asleep, leav- 
ing Tweed and myself to drive. 
The next morning at 9 o'clock found us at Jim 
Benders', our stopping place. He gave us a cordial 
greeting, and asked us to put our mules in his stables. 
We unloaded the wagon, putting the things in his barn, 
except those we intended to take with us to the lake. 
"Those are very fine hounds," he said. "I would like 
very much to have them, but I can't keep them through 
the summer season. As soon as a dog learns to run 
deer here he goes into the lake and a 'gator is sure to 
catch him." 
The boys were busily engaged preparing the things 
we were to take with us, arranging them so that they 
might be easily carried, folded in the tent fly, and 
swung on a pole. 
"Mr. Benders, we must have a cook. Where is Bill 
Burnett?" 
"Bill? Why, yes, he is about the yard somewhere." 
He called for him, and the brother in black soon 
made his appearance. He came up wiping his greasy 
mouth and said. "Why, ain't dot Mr. Mewboorne? I'm 
glad to see you; ain't seed you now gwine on three years. 
Chris'mas gip. Mr. Mewboorne, whar you bin all dis 
time?" 
I told him I had been home at work, but had come 
down to hunt, and wanted him to go with us to the lake 
and cook for us. 
Then- we set out It was hard work. Light things be- 
come heavy when they have to be carried a great dis- 
tance on the shoulders. But the old adage, "There is 
no excellence without labor," will apply to hunting and 
fishing as well as to anything else. 
The boys, for a wonder, had not said one word about 
being hungry, and walked down to the lake shore with 
Tweed, who presently returned and remarked that he 
did not expect to find so large a lake as that. He 
thought that it was so beautiful that it was a misfortune 
that it was in the wild woods, where no one but hunters 
could see it. 
There were perch in the lake, and while Bill and 
myself were putting up the tent, the boys caught thirty- 
one, weighing about 50 pounds. Frank told Bill to begin 
supper, and to clean about fifteen fish, for he was fish 
hungry. 
While we were preparing supper the boys came in 
and reported that they had found a boat. Bill explained 
that some gentlemen from the North had come last win- 
ter to fish and hunt deer, and hired some one to bring 
it in with an ox and cart.» They did riot hunt any; they 
could get no hounds, he said; 'gators eat all the good 
hounds every summer. "Mr. Mewboorne," he said, "if 
you been down here den wid dem nice dogs dey gin you 
fifty dollar piece fur 'em. Dey rib mo' care for money 
- dan fur pine straw." 
As soon as we were through breakfast the next morn- 
ing, we lost no time in getting ready for the hunt. This 
part of it was left entirely to me; not that I was any better 
deer hunter than Tweed, but I knew these woods better, 
for he had never been here before. 
Now, to kill deer successfully — and I am only speaking 
of eastern Carolina hunting — you must have what we call 
"standers." for the deer, as soon as he is jumped, starts 
instantly for a lake, river or even the ocean (if near it), 
as that is his only means of protection from the dogs. I 
have run many a deer into the ocean surf, and hidden 
behind the sandbanks and shot it when it came out. 
My first work was to show two of the boys where to 
stand. I directed Dan to a large oak near the lake on 
an open glade, 300 yards east of the camp, and told him 
if he saw the deer in the distance, to be perfectly still 
to prevent the deer from seeing or smelling him. That 
was all the instruction he needed. I then gave Paul 
prett}' much the same instruction, sending him on the 
lake west of the camp to a small beech tree near a ravine, 
about a quarter of a mile. 
I was to handle the degs and do the driving. It is 
against the rules of deer hunting to have more than one 
man in the drive, because that is not treating the stand- 
ers" fairly, and Tweed knew it; but he moved that the 
rules be suspended, as deer were more plentiful than 
they were where we usually hunted. To this the boys 
agreed, and Tweed and Mike went with me. 
We left the camp, leading the dogs till we came to the 
"beech ridge," about three-quarters of a mile, and turned 
them loose. We had not gone far after leaving the small 
path before Tweed called my attention to an old rotten 
log that was torn all to pieces, and asked me what did it. 
I told him it was a bear, and that they did it to get bugs 
and worms to eat. 
Presently Mike found a dead sapling, and wanted to 
know what did it. Tweed told him that it was a "deer 
scrape." "And what's that?" said Mike. Tweed then 
explained how the bucks (in the month of October) 
would rub the velvet and skin off their antlers. 
While we were explaining to Mike about how the 
bucks shed their horns every year in the month of 
February (for lie had never seen a deer of any kind in 
his life), the dogs began trailing a cold scent Sud- 
denly we heard Roosevelt where the scent was fresher, 
and when Tweed heard him in the lead his face bright- 
ened up. and he said, "Listen to Roosevelt; that deer 
will be up in a minute." 
And he wat right, for in a moment the dogs were all 
fanning, I sent Tw#ed and Mike to my left, so they 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
-would not intercept Dan and Mike. Soon the dogs 
separated, and I knew that there were more deer than one 
before them. 
I then listened for guns, and soon heard Dan shoot 
twice. Roosevelt had turned in the direction of Tweed 
and Mike, who was nearly in sight of me. 
Presently I heard Mike' shoot' and squall at the top of 
his voice, "Run here! I've got him!" Tweed told him to 
hush. In about five minutes I heard Tweed shoot, and 
the dog stop running about where I heard Mike. 
I was not long in getting to them, as the woods were 
thin, being anxious to see what thev had both killed. 
Tweed had shot at a skulking deer and missed. Mike 
had killed a fine "peghorn" buck and was sitting astride 
of it when I arrived, and patting Roosevelt on the head 
and saying, "Oh, you good dog; you brought him right 
straight to me, didn't you, Colonel?" 
"Up with him! Let's be going," said Tweed. "I am 
anxious to see what Dan shot." 
When we arrived at the camp, Dan, who had become 
tired waiting for us, had called the negro and they had 
brought the one that he had killed (a fine fellow, too). 
I don't think I ever saw finer antlers; there were five pegs 
on each beam. 
It has been said — and believed by many — that they 
have a peg for each year, but that is not true, for I 
killed one with beams 13 inches long and not a peg on 
either. 
I asked Bill if he had heard Paul shoot. "Nti, sir, 
boss; but I hear him holler plentv. Dat him holler jess 
den." 
We did not understand it. and Mike, Dan and myself 
went to see, leaving Tweed and Bill to dress the "deer 
while we were gone. We found Paul in a pretty bad 
plight; his face and hat were covered with mud, his 
hunting coat torn badly. 
"Why didn't you come to me?" said he. "I have 
hollered myself hoarse." 
"Why, what's the matter?" 
"Let me tell you: I saw something swimming from 
the other side of the lake; and it was coming directly 
to where I was standing. I just hid myself behind this 
old tree that you see there that has fallen into the lake 
and waited for it to come on the land, thinking all the 
time that it was a big otter, so that I might shoot it. 
And it swam right into the thickest part of that old tree- 
top and stopped and hid, and to my astonishment it 
was a big buck." 
"Why didn't you shoot him?" 
"Let me tell you: I wanted to take him- alive, and 
I ran down to the boat without letting him see me and 
got that small rope and made a noose and walked out 
on the log and put it on his horns; then made this end 
fast to this small tree. I then began to pull the rope. 
I says, 'Old fellow, come out of there.' And he came, 
lunging and jumping. I thought he would break the 
rope, and I caught him by the hind legs. He kicked me 
about ten feet and jumped on me, hung his foot in my 
pocket, tore my coat, and bruised me up pretty badly. 
Next time I shall shoot him. I did not know the things 
were so strong and mean." 
"Where is he now? Which way did he go?" 
"There he is in those briers, a sullen old rascal." 
One of the dogs had missed us and taken our tracks 
and was barking at my heels. The deer became fright- 
ened at the dog's voice, and made a desperate struggle 
for his freedom, broke the rope, and was gone in a 
moment, and the dog after him. 
We ran for the boat, for I believed he would soon be 
in the lake again; and I was not mistaken, for in he. 
plunged, but it was too far to shoot, and I had to leave 
him for the others. When we got him to camn. Tweed 
said, "Bully for you! Three bucks hanging up at once. 
That is enough. We have had sport enough for one 
hunt, and to kill another deer would be murder." 
"Let's get out of here. How is it to be done, Bill?" 
"Ise bin lookin' fur Mr. Benders. Soon as you 
gemmens git t'rew dinner I go git old buck ox and cart. 
I car' these things out here. Dese woods dry now." 
While we were eating dinner, we heard some one 
"haw" and "gee," and saw Benders with his ox and cart. 
We began packing up, and in a few hours were out 
on the main road near the Benders' home. We drove 
into the grove where we had left the wagon, and in a short 
while were ready to move in the direction of Kinston. 
with three fine deer and two coons hung to the rear of 
the wagon, and the liver for the parson. 
"Come again," said Benders, as we were leaving, "and 
I will go with you. Write me when you will come, so 
that I may be ready." 
We thanked him, and I blew my horn for the hounds 
that were standing at the kitchen door. We were soon 
moving homeward, with the boys singing, 
"A hunter's life is a life for me." 
"Won't we astonish the Kinston folks when we drive 
in!" said Mike. 
"So we will ; I am astonished myself, for it is not often 
we have such success." 
"It will prove to them," said Tweed, "that all hunters 
and fishermen are not liars." 
"I wish we had brought some of those large perch." - 
said Dan. 
"I put ten large ones in an old sack," said Mike. 
All right. We will wash them off nicely before we 
get to Kinston, and hang them out so that they may be 
seen. One of you boys drive. The mules know the road. 
I'll get back there and take a nap." 
Levi A. Mewboorne. 
Live Decoy for Wolves* 
Calumet, Mich., Dec. 20. — A L'Anse correspondent 
of the Mining Gazette tells that Wendelin Krisch, the 
trapper from Nestoria, was in the Baraga county seat 
the other day with two more wolf scalps to get the bounty-. 
When asked how he got so many wolves lately, he said 
that he caught a large wolf a short time ago in a trap 
and kept her alive, as she was not hurt. He chains her 
up a short distance from his cabin and her howls bring 
the other wolves from miles around, and he quietly sits in 
his shanty and shoots them. He says that he has found 
the hides and bones of several deer that the wolves have 
killed lately near his place, F. A. L. 
[Jan. 4 iooa. 
A Moose Steak that wasn't MoosJ 
When Bassford was a boy he lived in Maine. In thosfl 
days the season for moose was a long, open one. and ill 
the village butcher shop moose steaks were as cheap al 
beef. From eating moose Bassford"- advanced into hunt! 
ing moose, and the juicy steaks cooked over the campl 
fire in the wilderness are things not smothered in hi I 
memory. 
. In the 'so's Bassford struck out for the West, landeJ 
m the village of St. Paul and might be virtually said ti 
have built up the city, for being an architect, and a gooJ 
one, it came to pass that our best buildings were to bl 
designed by him. 
Next to successfully competing for a structure. BassforJ 
loved best to work some joke upon his fellow man. Quick! 
witted and with a ready tongue and a fund of humol 
simply immeasurable, he has turned the laugh on so man I 
that few are there of his acquaintances in town but whal 
have something coming" to Bassford. 
A few days ago I dropped into Bassford' s office. "Jusl 
the man I want to see. You come home with me to-nighl 
and you have dinner with me. Clark has just sent m? 
that parcel right out there on the window sill keeping 
fresh and cool, and guess what is in it. Moose steak 
I won't ever trust it to the cook, but I will take it in han<> 
myself and I'll do the broiling. I'll just light up tha 
gas range, 'fire' the coek for the time being and I'll broi 
that steak as I used to back in old Maine State forty-od< 
years ago. We'll have a regular hunter's supper— broile. 
moose and baked potatoes. You can't buy game in th] 
market, and it is some time since I have had any, and 
am just longing for a taste of that wild browse flavo 
that the moose has. Now say you will come." Th; 
temptation was great, but I had to forego it because of : 
previous engagement. 
I met Bassford the next day, and he had a dejectec 
look upon his face which instantly gave place to a broac 
grin, followed by an exclamation, "The boys did up th 
old man in great shape this time. I set my mouth for tha 
steak. I took it home and I broiled it to a turn, set ii 
swimming in the choicest 40-cent butter, and retirinj 
from the office of chef I took my seat at the head of th< 
table. All being served, I helped myself. Upon taking 
my first mouthful one of my boys said. 'Pa, don't yot 
taste that nice, wild browse flavor? Isn't it delightful? 
'Browse nothing,' said I, 'this is just plain, ordinary, pack 
mg-house steer; no moose about it.' And," he went on, 
"that's the way the boys worked me and did so to th< 
queen's taste. But that is not all, they sent up a gooc 
section of a fat hog, nicely trimmed up, to Kennedy anc 
marked it a black bear roast, with their compliments, anc 
Kennedy never got onto it. How many others thev die 
up I do not know, but I'll admit that they got good anc 
square with me this time and no mistake." 
Charles Crist adoro. ' 
The Tenderfoot Out West* 
Harry M. was making money, and making it fast, too, 
but he was doing it at a cost of nerve tissue I could tell 
by the drawn look, the sharp, metallic tone of voice, 
and the mouth shut tight as a box trap. I made it mv 
way to see him often at lunch, and he knew what I was 
after, well enough, but I lay low and waited my time. 
One day he dropped his papers and blurted out: "I 
am off with you this fall; I can"t stand this any longer. 
I'm going. There's my hand; now get in the game." 
He is great on handshaking; if he promised me his head 
and shook on it I'd expect to get the head. 
Well, I landed him in South Dakota, two days before 
the law was off, and put him in the hands of my guide, 
whom I call "Peck's Bad Boy." The guide kept him 
from "burning" while I got ready to do as he said, i. e„ 
"Get in the game." He was a genuine Tenderfoot out 
here on the grass and stubble. Back East he goes oufe 
nights alone. The morning of the first of September 
we were up betimes; yes, he was up several minutes be-' 
fore old betimes got the sleepy seeds out of his peepers, 
and went charging down stairs after hot coffee, and was 
using "landwidge" that smelt like the old sulphur 
matches they had when I was a boy. Once fairly out- 
doors where he could look "good," he swelled up an«ij 
poured forth such a psean of praise of it all; why, he, 
fairly^ bubbled with joy at being alive, and his eyes shone: 
like "a fifer's muster morning." Then the dogs pointed, 
and he tore over the side of the wagon with "Let me at 
'em! I'll lop 'em!" 
Peck and I sprinted, and caught him in the nick of ] 
time; he fired at the rising birds and claimed he shot! 
'em call. "There, got one, got two, got three!" he yelled,' 
and then Peck collapsed, and between time asked what; 
brand of repeater he was using now. At which he' 
blushed like a girl, and he will see the back of his neck, 
at the same time he sees forty years again. 
There were some ducks in the slews, and he pestered' 
Peck and me until we took him to one. though we werej 
getting chickens right, left, and stra."gr.t away. Now, a: 
duck raised in South Dakota is always in a hurry; hei 
never lingers nor loiters on even a short journey, but 
bats the air solar-plexus blows, and fades away faster, 
than a ghost. We put him in a good place and turned 
them down on him. He burned a lot of ammunition, 
but he had another guess coming on a duck. He is apt 
to jig back hard to get what he wants, and by and by 
he "let-'er-rip," — two black powder shells at once. His 
head flew back, one leg up in the air, and when he got 
into hne, all in one piece like, he remarked to me: "I ! 
guess I ain't over much on ducks; but say, I'm dead: 
medicine on a shikepoke." After which I went over and ; 
comforted him, and taught him all that holding ahead 
two, four and six feet was tommyrot and worse. The 
man who holds ahead stops his game; and if you think, 
you can d,o that and hit a South Dakota duck going down 
wind you have another guess coming. I have seen as 
many try as the next man, and I never saw a good shot 
on die hold-ahead-plan yet, not one, and I have con- 
verted a few into the swing-wkh-pull-and-swing-all-the- 
time plan. I may shoot ahead, can't say; but I can hit 
a duck any place three out of five times, and there are 
just a few in the "deestrict" that cannot. He listened 
patiently and soon after began to crack over some, and' 
at the last got his pair, at which he fairly beamed, and 
