482 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
[Junb ai, 1902. 
A Successful Hunt. 
Our last year's hunt was not successful. We had been 
over-persuaded, and had consented to take with us a 
third man, who was a fine shot, but could not resist the 
temptation to kill every living thing in sight, and would 
draw bead on a red squirrel or a moose bird with as much 
gusto as though it were a five-pronged buck. It was 
simply impossible to hold him in check. For instance, he 
would shoot at blue herons on the lake while we were 
tracking a moose on the bog ;. result, two blue herons and 
no moose. After a few days, finding the case incurable, 
we gave up and returned to New York empty-handed, an- 
nouncing to all our friends that in 1901 we proposed 
to "go it alone," but man proposes, woman disposes. Mrs. 
B. objected strongly to my going so far into the woods 
alone, and referred me to a previous year when I had 
met with a severe accident miles away from any assistance 
but that of my guide. Accordingly, a party consisting of 
H, R. Comfort, John Harper and the writer was ar- 
ranged for 1901. Early in the season Barney Fisher and 
John Henry, of Jackman, Me., were engaged as guides 
by Comfort and Harper, the writer having secured the 
services of his old guide, George Farley, the previous 
year. Three better guides never wore moccasins, and 
to them is due the success of the hunt. 
Early in October the duffle was packed and a start made 
for the St. John River and a moose. Our objective point 
was St. Coure, P. Q., eighty miles by wagon road from 
Jackman, Me., where we left the C. P. R. For fifty miles 
the ride over the old Quebec stage road was delightful, 
but then turning eastward we entered a comparatively 
unsettled country, with new roads that were simply awful, 
though judging by the way the substantial supper was 
stowed away on our arrival at St. Coure late in the even- 
ing of the second day, very successful in producing a 
good appetite. An early start and ride of si* miles the 
next morning brought us to the St. John River, where, 
much to our disappointment, we found a low stage of 
water, and as we still had thirty-five miles of canoeing 
down the river to the hunting grounds, this meant at least 
two days of hard work, wading and dragging most of the 
way. By 9 A. M. the canoes were loaded and we hoped to 
reach Sands' place by dark. This is a hunting camp run 
by Ephraim Sands and his wife, a sister of George Farley, 
the writer's guide, and is a favorite stopping place for 
hunters on the upper St. John. But we made slow progress. 
Reaching the boundary, we took lunch by the side of one 
of the iron monuments erected by the joint governments 
to define the line between the United States and Canada, 
and failing to reach Sands' place by dark, made a late 
camp on the bank of the river, thoroughly wet and 
lired. 
The next morning an hour's paddling and dragging 
brought us. to Sands' camp, where we found Mrs. Sands 
with her sister-in-law and little son, Hugh, in sole pos- 
session, Sands being down the river on a hunting trip. 
The women were very much frightened, as a panther, at- 
tracted most likely by the smell of venison in camp, had 
been prowling around for a few nights previous, and on 
two occasions had driven the dog (a puppy) to take refuge 
under the kitchen by its unearthly cry. They had no fear 
for themselves, for Mrs. Sands is a true hunter's wife, ex- 
pert with the rifle, and fearless of any living thing in the 
woods, but feared lest little Hughey — four years old — 
might steal away from the cabin unobserved after dark 
and attempt to hold . an argument with the panther, as he 
had threatened to do, if it "did not leave his dog alone." 
After an exchange of greetings between Farley and his 
sister, who met now for the first time since early spring, 
a good lunch with the family and a few minutes' romp 
with little Hughey, we again started down the river, hop- 
ing to make Ten-Mile Brook by dark, but the canoeing 
was even worse than the day before, and we made slow 
progress — a short paddle, then a drag over a riffle or a 
sandbar, the canoes frequently being fairly lifted over the 
stones. Our only mishap, however, was when Harper 
who had taken to the canoe during a short stretch of 
good water, attempted to aid his guide in clearing a large 
rock, and promptly tipped out of the canoe, but Henry, 
•seeing that Harper was bound to go, quickly slid into the 
water and prevented it from overturning, so saving the 
stores from wetting, and a fire soon dried Harper out, 
At dusk we were still two miles from the point where 
we proposed leaving the river, and as the stage of water 
was such that it was impossible to make any progress 
after dark, we again camped on the bank, very tired, but 
with the pleasant feeling that we were near the promised 
land and our troubles about over. By 10 o'clock the next 
morning we had passed Ten-Mile Brook, found a good 
landing, and were busy unloading the canoes, while Henry 
was looking up a suitable spot for a home camp. While 
making the trip down the river, we had seen plenty of 
partridges, but few deer sign were in evidence until after 
leaving Sands' camp, and, in fact, were not plentiful until 
near Ten-Mile Brook. Here, however, the banks were lit- 
erally trampled up, and as our camp was to be a mile or 
more back from the river, and we had made an iron-clad 
agreement not to fire a shot while in the hunting grounds, 
unless at a moose, Comfort started down the river bank 
for some venison, while the rest were at work unloading 
the canoes, returning in about an hour with a fine two- 
year-old and a bunch of partridges. Meantime Henry 
had found a dry knoll, about a mile back from the river, 
surrounded by heavy timber, and only a few rods distant 
from a small brook, conditions which insured us a dry 
camp, plenty of good wood and water, and a cushion to 
break the sound of the ax. The tote was a heavy one, all 
hands making three trips before all the plunder was 
brought up, and the canoes safely stowed away in the 
brush, bottom up, to await our return to civilization. 
By 3 o'clock we were ready to pitch the tents. First clear- 
ing the knoll of brush, the wall tent was set up, opening 
to the southwest. Directly opposite, and about twenty 
feet away, the guides built for themselves a log lean-to 
with a split roof. For the third side of the square a smaller 
tent was used for dining and storage room. This done, we 
turned to and gathered balsam boughs for our bedding, 
while the guides were busy cutting birch logs for the 
fire which was to occupy the open space in front of the 
tents. By dark we had the things fixed pretty comfort- 
ably, and after starting a big log fire sat down to a hearty 
supper of broiled venison, fried partridge, slapjacks and 
coffee, with appetites that bid fair to bull the market on 
those commodities for the coming three weeks. An even- 
ing pipe in the glow of the camp-fire, and then to our 
balsam bed, to dream of the coming hunt; at least the 
writer did, and had just downed a monster bull, with 
antlers spreading ten feet, and a bell three feet long, when 
the cheery voice of Farley called to breakfast. 
It was yet two days before the open season, and this 
time was fully occupied in getting up a supply of wood, 
gathering more balsam boughs and policing the camp. We 
also reset the tents, which had been hastily pitched the 
first night, and Comfort went down to the river and 
added another buck and a few birds to our larder, being 
unanimously elected purveyor to the camp upon his return. 
A prospecting trip was also taken, and a trail bushed out 
to the edge of the bog. three miles from camp, where the 
hunting ground commenced. It was arranged to hunt in 
couples, each hunter with his guide taking a different 
direction upon reaching the bog, and under no circum- 
stances to change sufficient to cross the other's range, un- 
less following a wounded moose, This rule we thought 
necessary, owing to the extreme range of our .30-3OS and 
the fact that the country was level and mostly open, many 
square miles having been burned over years ago by fires so 
.intense as to completely destroy the life of the soil, which 
had never been able since that time to produce anything 
beyond moss and blueberry bushes, with an occasional 
clump of stunted willows and alders, except along the 
water courses, where heavy timber still stands, The 
bogs are covered with moss, partly hiding the fallen trees 
and rotten branches, and constant stepping on or over 
these every few steps, plunging through the moss into a 
hidden hole to the knees, adds greatly to "that tired 
feeling" which is apt to overtake the moose hunter some 
time during the afternoon, if not earlier. 
The early morning of the first open day saw us all at 
the edge of the bog, where we stood deliberating on the 
plan for the day before separating, Comfort's guide, 
Fisher, a few steps in advance, meanwhile carefully scan- 
ning the bog with the aid of a field glass. At length mo- 
tioning us to come to him, he said he. could see a cow 
moose near the edge of the timber bordering a small 
stream nearly half a mile away, and evidently coquetting 
with a bull near by. With the aid of the glass we could 
all see the cow distinctly, but could see no bull. Fisher, 
however, was certain there was one in the edge of the 
timber, and with Comfort started to investigate, while' the 
rest of the party quietly stole off in another direction. 
The cow was browsing only a short distance from the 
timber, and with every shoot she nipped would turn her 
head and glance, not toward the hunters, but in the direc- 
tion of the woods. With the wind in their favor, and 
crawling carefully on hands and knees, taking advantage 
of every stump and hummock, they finally covered about 
half the distance, and reached a fallen log. From behind 
this they could see the cow still feeding quietly, but no 
bull in sight. Starting again, they finally reached a 
small hummock, only about 200 yards from the edge of 
the woods; the cow, a little to their right, was gradually 
working toward them between the hummock and the 
timber. Carefully scanning the woods with his glass, 
Comfort saw directly opposite him, and partially hidden by 
the brush, not one, but two bulls, one evidently a three- 
year-old, the other with a broad spread of antlers and a 
fine head. This was the one he wanted, and raising his 
rifle he was about to fire, when a crash in the timber be- 
tween the two bulls and the cow startled him, and turning 
his head, there stood in the open, with erect mane and 
glaring eyes, a bull which he declared afterward looked 
as big as a barn. Quickly realizing from his attitude that 
if he wanted a standing shot, he had only an instant to 
take it, he held on his shoulder and fired, hearing the 
welcome thud, telling him the shot had gone home. The 
bull, instead of taking to the timber, ran along its edge, 
evidently making for a bunch of alders a short distance 
below, and Comfort, springing to his feet, pumped in shot 
after shot. "He has got his dose," said Fisher, as Com- 
fort fired the seventh time, and as he spoke the bull 
pitched headlong over a stump. When they reached him 
he was dead, struck with seven bullets, six of them reach- 
ing a vital part. 
We had all heard the shots, but coming so close to- 
gether and with no subsequent finishing shot, we had 
concluded it was either a clear miss or a case of follow- 
ing a wounded bull all day, and had gone on, but after a 
day's tramp, seeing nothing but a cow and two calves, we 
returned to camp to find that Comfort had a magnificent 
head of twenty points, with great broad blades, and a 
spread of fifty-eight inches. Congratulations were in 
order, as we all pronounced it, in our opinion, the finest 
head that would be secured during the season, which 
were accepted with modesty by Comfort, who gave us the 
details of the hunt while seated around the camp-fire in 
the evening, and we turned in to our blankets full of en- 
thusiasm, hoping the next day to get the larger of the 
two bulls he had first seen. 
The next morning, leaving Comfort and Fisher in 
camp to attend to their head, we started for the barrens, 
but saw only one small bull and a cow during the day's 
hunt. On returning to camp late in the evening, Harper 
and Henry reported having killed a large bull about six 
miles from camp, but too late to bring in the head that 
night. 
The next day we played a lone hand with Farley, the 
others going after Harper's head, which on being brought 
to camp was found to measure sixty-three inches— a five- 
inch wider spread, but not as fine a head as Comfort's, 
the blades being irregular, with one dropping below the 
other. 
For several days following we hunted diligently, seeing 
moose each day, but no big bulls, they evidently having 
taken alarm and gone further back on the bogs. On 
one of these days, while resting on the open bog, eating 
our lunch, a three-year-old bull came out of a little bunch 
of alders within seventy-five yards of us, in plain sight, 
and stood looking as though undecided about seeking a 
closer acquaintance. Holding the rifle on him as he stood 
there, we thought how little he knew il was only his 
youth stood between him and a .30-30 soft-point bullet, 
put his tender age protected him, and after satisfying his 
curiosity he turned and entered the alders unharmed. 
There were but few deer on the bogs, feed along the water 
courses being more abundant, but one day while resting 
on a log, a fine buck and two does came out from a small 
bunch of alders near by, and fed up to within twenty-five 
yards of us, finally re-entering the alders, apparently un- 
conscious of our presence. 
Comfort and Harper had each got their head, but now 
it seemed as though the big ones had all left the barrens, 
though we hunted every day, early and late, each day cov- 
ering ground more distant from camp and seeing numbers 
of cows and small bulls, we could not find the head we 
wanted, and the time set for returning to civilization was 
drawing near; the weather was still fine, but now we had 
to break the ice for the morning bath, and snow was evi- 
dently in the air. Farley, too, had agreed to return and 
take charge of a lumber camp on the Spencer not later 
than Nov. i, but said he knew the head I wanted was 
there somewhere on the barens, and if I agreed, he would 
stay until Christmas but what we would have it. Visions 
of what would happen to the treasury department if I 
were not back at my desk by Nov. 1 rose before me, but 
I replied, "Christmas it is, then," and sent Fisher down 
the river to the Indians at Seven Islands for a pair of 
moccasins, my footwear having given out. On the day 
originally set for our homeward journey, we left camp 
early, agreeing with the rest of the party that in case we 
did not return that, night they were to pull out for home 
the next morning, and started for Ten-Mile Brook, 
twelve miles away. Though covering a good deal of 
ground, we saw nothing all day, and about 3 P. M., thor- 
oughly tired, and somewhat discouraged, we sat on a 
log, back to back, to rest and discuss the ways and means 
for a night's camp. Directly in front of Farley, and dis- 
tant about 150 yards, was a small growth of alders, and 
we had been seated but a few minutes when he touched 
me and whispered, "There is your moose." Cautiously 
turning my head. I saw standing in the edge of the alders 
a large bull, evidently scanning the barren preparatory to 
crossing. The wind was in our favor, but I knew the 
least move on our part would start him, either on a charge 
for us or back into the bush. He stood with broad side 
toward me, and not daring to rise from the log, I partially 
turned and fired one shot, then springing to my feet sent in 
another just as he disappeared into the alders. Running 
over to where he had stood, we saw a spot of blood, but 
only a little, and I feared I had only scratched him. We 
pushed our way into the alders, grown up so thick we 
could see only a rod or two in advance of us, and found 
more blood, but our_ progress was necessarily slow, for 
we feared starting him again in case he had been hard 
hit and stopped, and we both realized what that might 
mean for us. He had not stopped, however, and when 
we reached the open we could see nothing of him, but 
Farley soon found his tracks, evidently pointing to a 
growth of stunted spruce a quarter of a mile away. After 
following the tracks about half-way across the barren, We 
lost them again in the moss, and after a long search were 
unable to pick them up. At last, completely discouraged 
and too tired to take another step, I threw myself down 
on the moss, but Farley, bidding me remain where I 
was, said he "would find that moose if it took until Christ- 
mas," and started off toward the clump of spruce. He 
had but just passed out of sight when I heard a yell and 
sprang to my feet, the tired feeling all gone, for I knew 
that yell meant a dead moose, as if he had come on him 
alive he could have made no noise, for fear of starting 
him again. With an answering shout that might have 
been heard at the home camp, I started on the run for 
Farley, and found him a few rods in the spruces, standing 
by the side of a dead moose. Examining him, we found 
the first shot, a little too far back, had passed through 
both lungs, and the second, striking within an inch of his 
tail, had ranged through his body, lodging, as we after- 
ward found, just under the skin of his breast, either 
\Vbund a mortal one, yet he had run nearly a mile, not 
falling until his lungs had filled with blood. He had bled 
but little outwardly until he fell, but when Farley reached 
him the blood was streaming from nose and mouth, 
It was now growing dark, and while Farley was busy 
skinning the moose, I started a fire and gathered a stock 
of dry wood, then cutting four stakes about six feet 
long, drove them into the ground before the fire, so that 
we might stretch the skin over them for a wind break. 
We got the skin off and stretched over the poles by 8 
o'clock, and I laid down with my. feet to the fire, prob- 
ably the most tired, and certainly the happiest, man on the 
St. John that night. Farley skinned out the head before 
turning in, then replenished the fire and lay down be- 
side me, to be awakened about 3 A. M. by a sharp flurry 
of snow. Throwing a few logs on the fire, we slept until 
sunrise, then started for the home camp, reaching it about 
2 P. M., to find our party still there, having decided to 
wait one more day for us. The next morning we struck 
camp and started for home in a driving snowstorm, with 
the river rising, there having been heavy storms south 
and west of its, so that we had a good stage of water for 
the return trip. 
We arrived in New York in due time, with the heads, 
measuring respectively 58 inches with 20 points, 63 inches 
with 24 points, and 56 inches, with 18 points, so we think 
we have every reason to call this r season's hunt a success- 
ful one. Chas. S. Brooks. 1 
After the French Revolution the people, by way of prov- 
ing that they had at last got the power into their hands, 
destroyed some of the finest forests in their country be- 
cause the nobility had preserved these for hunting. An 
improvident multitude simply put into active operation 
the same spirit which Mr. Cannon is encouraging by his 
attitude of suspicious and semi-hostile indifference. To- 
day the French Government is spending its milliards to 
repair the damage done in this revolt against a policy of 
conservatism. It was true that the great seigneurs had 
used the forests for hunting, but the forests themselves 
had performed -a noble public service nevertheless for the 
very commoners who insisted upon sweeping them away. 
It will be fortunate if, between the anxiety of Congress 
to practice a little spigot frugality, the slack administra- 
tion of the reserves under the system of Land Office 
patronage, and the rapacious bent of some, of the parties 
on the edge , of the Government forests who nae lumber 
iii their business, our posterity may not repeat trfe costly 
experience of France. — New York Evening Post. 
