June 13, 1903.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
46S 
has been in the bottoms for quite a way back. What's 
that shimmering in the lantern light? another pond that 
the road passes through? No! by George! Here is the 
ferry sure enough — that rope tied to that white ash 
slab and running out over the water from tree to tree 
until lost in the darkness, is the "transmission"; human 
hands and muscles are the "power."' and the "load" 
will soon be in evidence on the deck of the old flat- 
bottom scow, if we can but' make the owner hear us 
and bring her over. "Whoa, Micodermus! Whoa, dar: 
ain' yo' don tired 'nuf toe stan' still while I's onhitchin' 
yuh?" Thump goes the wagon tongue into the mud. 
The country is wild for the most part, and is still well 
stocked with deer, wild turkeys and squirrels, and 
throughout the winter season is the resort of myriads of 
wildfowl, largely mallard ducks, who wax fat on the 
acorns of the bottorn lands. Deer are hunted ahnost en- 
tirely with dogs, and these are started by a hunter on 
horseback, after first stationing the other members, each 
on his respective runway. 
Twice this method was successfully used by the party, 
and on an equal number of occasions still-hunting yielded 
venison to their ready rifles. 
As a matter of course the former method is by far the 
the dead animal again and again; then, gradually quiet-' 
ing down, indicate that they are satisfied. So bleed the 
game, sling it over the mule, and away for the ferry. 
There'll be venison in place of tough "razor-back" pork 
to-morrow, and to-night by the bright fire light of white 
ash logs (which, though green cut, burn almost equal 
to other woods when dry) we will listen to the fiddle 
scraping against the horse-hair bow, and between tunes 
each hunter will recount his experiences of the day. 
New Year's Day, 1903, was a wet one on the banks of 
the "Tippo." Rain, rain," rain, next day and the next, and 
the next. Will it never let up? And now the bottom 
AT THE RUNWAY. 
IK AT THE DEATH. 
Swish; bang goes the sliarness on top of it, and the 
mules, freed from their late burden, go cantering off in 
the darkness, headed straight for the nearest cane- 
brake, where they will obtain their supper. Isn't that 
easy money? The ridge for a stable, the cane-brake 
for a hay stack, the river bank for wagon shed and 
harness room combined! It's .harder on the leather har- 
ness than on the live stock, for the latter seem to thrive 
well enough but for comfort to the hostler! Immense! 
Well, lend a hand here and yank out those trunks and 
telescopes. Hollo-0-0 over there! Hoop-la! Whoope-e! 
Can't they hear? Yes, there is a lantern moving about 
among the trees and here comes the ferrj' — hand-over- 
hand — along the rope. Soon the luggage is aboard and 
shortly afterward the crossing is accomplished and the 
hungry, weary travelers are once more united under one 
more picturesque and thrilling. The deep soundmg horn 
echoing through the forest and answered m refram by the 
silver-throated hounds— the watcher on the runway, tense- 
muscled and alert, waiting with cocked gun to hear the 
'first sound of crackling brush. How his heart thumps 
against his ribs as the voice of the hound turns m his 
direction. The deep bass of the old dog speaks volumes 
to the trained ear of the hunter. Its long tremulous 
vibration, with rising inflection slowly repeated at inter- 
vals, tells more plainly than words that the trail is old 
and uncertain. Now the old fellow has evidently turned 
about, following the track in the opposite direction, for 
when he gives tongue the sound comes with a far-away 
effect, growing fainter at each repetition. Hark! Hear 
that high treble off to the right? There it goes again! 
Yes, and now in quick succession, again and again, always 
lands are flooded and little land save the canebrakes are 
dry. The rain time is a sorry time for the hunters. 
Card plaving has become monotonous, and it's all we can 
do, too. "There's an end to everything, and so there was 
to the rain, but it quit with a veritable grouch on, and 
without the cheer and promise of bright sunshine. Cold 
gray clouds obscured the blue sky, and mist and chill 
were ever neaV, and now and then, just to keep one in 
suspense, the floodgates of heaven opened up and 
sprinkled down the mist and fog once m.ore. Duck hunt- 
ing in the dugout now took the place of other occupa- 
ticns, and served to pass away the time pleasantly. There 
was venison enough in the larder and_ mallard ducks and 
gray squirrels on the side, which, with boiled rice and 
sorghum molasses, kept the wolf from gnawing at one's 
vitals, but the wet, cold, raw season was on in good 
AFTER DUCKS WITH THE DUGOUT IN THE GLOAMING. 
FULLER S FERRY — BRINGING IN THE DEER. 
hospitable roof. A hasty lunch and then good night, for 
all can find sleep without wooing it after the wearying 
events of the day. The air is chilly this December night, 
and the southern house is not built to exclude the night 
wind which rolls up through the cracks in the floor as the 
Ohio contingent pulls off its stockings in the "spare 
room." The chickens roosting along the footboards of 
the bed cackle in subdued chorus at the intrusion, and 
an occasional basso grunt from somewhere under the floor, 
answered by the staccato pipings of a litter of young 
porkers, tells a tale of domestic felicity blow decks. 
But these little interruptions cut small figure that first 
night in the calculations of the Ohio sportsmen. Sleep — • 
balmy, dreamless sleep — ended their first day's experience 
on the banks of the "Tippo." 
The "Tippo" belongs to the Yazoo River system, but 
is scarcely a river in the proper sense. It is a succession 
of pools of dead water connected by narrower stretches 
of channel. Ordinarily there is no perceptible current, 
and the water level varies with the season, backing up 
and overflowing the bottom lands on the slightest provo- 
cation, or drying up until little water is left, save in the 
largest pools. 
with shorter intervals between. The bitch has struck a 
warm trail, sure; and now, in grand and growing chorus, 
come the voices of the whole pack, until the very air blos- 
soms with their music ; and what music it is ! What 
comparison can the artificial kind offer? Where are the 
creations of Meyerbeer and Wagner, the rollicking, crash- 
ing intonations of Remenyi, or the flute-voiced vocaliza- 
tions of our theatres and cathedrals? Can any or all 
combined make the heart beat and the blood leap and 
throb, and the nerves tingle like unto the duet of Nellie 
and Dick, chorused by the pack of black and white song- 
sters on the trail of the red deer? Never! Now they are 
coming nearer — nearer — they're headed straight for here, 
sure ! Now, look out ! Once the game bounds into that 
open space there in front, the shooting has got to be done 
mighty quick. He'll be in the brush again in another 
jump! Better cover the spot with your rifle now — he's 
bound to cross there inside of another minute. There ! 
Hear that brush crack? There he is now ! Bang! Pump 
your gun quick and be ready for another shot; but you 
don't need it this time. There he lies in a heap, and 
here come the dogs, all in a bunch, too. They rush up 
to their prey pell-mell, following in unison. They sniff 
earnest, and thus it was, after a couple of weeks had 
slipped away, that three Buckeyes from Northwestern 
Ohio concluded they would migrate back to their home 
again. 
A month or more earlier, say during November and 
the early part of December, would doubtless prove ex- 
tremely pleasant in Mississippi. ■ The weather is then 
usually drj^ and fine, the game equallj'^ plenty, and the 
wagon roads much better to travel over, and should this 
trio decide to try the vicinity again, November and De- 
cember will be the months selected. 
At Chattanooga, on the return trip, the party stopped 
off to visit Lookout Mountain and the National Military 
Cemetery, where lie sleeping so many thousands of our 
sons and brothers from the North who gave up their 
lives for the flag. 
This picturesque vicinity, with its historic treasures 
and battle grounds is well worth a visit alone, and in 
conjunction wnth the sport of the wilderness beyond is 
tempting enough to call for a second trip. 
May all have the opportunity another year to view with 
quickened eyes the scenes — now but a memory — down 
on the "Tippo" far away. 
