taken through a well recommended turkey range. 
But the rain came down briskljs and the low hanging 
clouds made a gloom under the foliage that it was 
hard to see turkeys in. The lone turkey that was en- 
countered had seen me first, and was slinking off with 
dripping feathers, a picture of humility, when discov- 
ered. He was too quick for a shot. The party had 
killed five or six deer before the last one was brought 
in by Anderson, the negro, who owns the hounds, on 
the day following the rain, You can see Anderson in 
the picture, standing triumphantly over his buck. The 
head and horns look heavy, and proved to be so, on 
a five-mile portage. They were sent to the taxidermist. 
All of the pictures are of this hunt. The big fish is 
an "alligator gar" shot in the lake. 
II. 
The night train west put me at the "Hotel Town" 
by 10 P. M., and an east bound train was taken next 
morning, to retrace the last four miles traveled. I 
reached Purnell Switch by an hour before daylight, 
trudged down the track to the turning-off place, and 
there built a fire and made bacon and coffee. Breakfast 
over, the coft'ee pot and grub were put into a hollow 
log, and a start was made, taking a course east of north 
through the wet, open woods. It was now full Hght 
and nature was astir. 
A violent altercation in a distant treetop indicated 
"varmints" fighting. Hastening that way I was in time 
to see a ball of fur-coated matter fall through space 
and strike the ground with the prehistoric thud. Wait- 
ing quietly a short time, a 'coon was discovered com- 
ing almost directly toward me, with his thoughts on 
the past. He passed within ten feet, when I wheeled 
and gave chase, nudging him on the back with my 
gun muzzle before he got into a brier thicket. Turning 
to resume my tramp, the enemy was seen in pursuit — 
another large 'coon on the trail of the first. This one, 
also, was given a foot race. and his tail brushed with 
the gun barrel. 
A few minutes later the squirrels canie out to break- 
fast, and there was much loud discussion among them. 
Your squirrel is a very positive and incontrovertible 
debater. Fresh deer tracks were here and there, and 
gave promise of a possible shot, but the deer was not 
seen, although the forenoon was^ spent in a cautious 
vigil. The deer was either too early for me, or I was 
too late for him — which means "six of one and half 
a dozen of the other." At noon the camp had been 
reached, namely, the hollow log Avhere the coffee pot 
was stored. Culinary operations again set in, and 
after dinner the squirrels were resorted to. Five were 
killed, three being with successive hits. The gun was 
a .38 carbine, of short bore for close shooting, and 
some of the squirrels were not hit in the head. 
Nightfall found me back at the railroad, and the 
four miles back to the hotel town were soon walked 
on the cross-ties. 
Next morning the early train was again taken back 
to the hunting grounds, breakfast cooked and another 
still-hunt made for the deer. The sign was plentiful 
over the ground covered, and under an oak tree was 
evidence that a buck had breakfasted within an hour 
or two past; but again he was too early. During the 
afternoon two squirrels were added to yesterday's 
bunch, and soon the train came that goes back from 
the big trees to the other world. 
III. 
Quite early in the morning Dr. Burkhalter was at 
the engine and I at the wheel of Doc's 16-foot gaso- 
line launch. Right good speed was made up the 
Yazoo, thence up Yalobusha to Dodd's Ferry. Pro- 
visions and bedding were in the little skiff towed along- 
side, excepting that the cooked bread and meat were 
in a tin box, which had been set on the muffler. Of a 
sudden, there was an explosion, followed by escaping 
steam. Doc jumped to the engine and I stood alert 
to dodge flying pieces of gasoline launch, because it 
was evident that she had "blown up." The trouble was 
only that the stopper had blown out of the coffee 
bottle, from the heat of the muflier. 
At Dodd's Mr. Allen joined us, and his skiff" also 
was taken in tow. 
As a sharp bend was turned, a flock of geese- were 
met, flying low, and a scuffle after guns followed by a 
volley, brought down two geese. Each man killed both 
geese. That is the only way it could be settled. 
Late in the afternoon as deer was startled from am- 
bush as we ran close in shore, but was missed by a 
rifle bullet and a load of duck shot. At sundown we 
unloaded the plunder at a vacant cabin in the little 
clearing at Pugh's, bargained with the good "old 
timey" negro woman, "Aunt Nancy," in a nearby cabin, 
to cook for us, and ran on up stream a mile, and out 
through a bayou into the "back water." Here were 
some squirrels, and mallards in plenty, but the ducks 
were impossible to be reached. A wood duck, a teal 
and some squirrels were bagged. 
After Aunt Nancy's sumptuous supper the bed was 
made down on the floor of our cabin and the big wood 
fire roared and crackled. 
At this hour the hunter taught of Mitchell and 
Hough, sees many pictures through the smoke wreaths 
and in the firelight. The Great Spirit has painted them 
there in successive array^ — the pictures of happy hunt- 
THE ALLIGATOR GAR. 
ing grounds of the past and future. There are those 
where is set in hallowed tints every chase of the past, 
some with good reward, others with toil and hardship 
followed by failure. But in those of the future, there 
are no failures painted. Set over against each past 
disappointment is brought out clear and surely a trail 
that leads over rugged and broken ground, and at its 
end is a reward of success full worth the toiling. 
These things are onlj' given by the Great Spirit to 
his forest children, who know the hunting grounds 
and have wandered upon them tirelessly and seen what 
he has painted on lake and woodland for those who 
will look. They are not for the children of books and 
cities. 
The bed that we slept upon would not have been soft 
at places where the Spirit of the Woods is not known 
to be. 
It was sunrise of a day that had been made by the 
Spirit of the Woods, and there was sign of deer and 
turkeys to gladden the hunter's heart. A strange chat- 
tering noise could not easily be distinguished at a dis- 
tance as proceeding from a turkey fight, but they were 
in plain view after a cautious detour was made of half 
an hour's duration. Several gobblers were making life 
uncomfortable for a weak brother — a strange contra- 
diction to the brave and lordly bearing of the gobbler 
481 
when on dress parade — but the germ of the "all bark 
and no bite" man probably evoluted through turkey 
and all. These fellows were making a very successful 
fight. The other one was getting entirely the worst 
of it. There was a log located just right for an ambush 
shot, with a possibility of killing all of the victors and 
missing the vanquished. Good progress had been made 
toward it, when a small and intrusive turkey saw a 
twig moved by me, and tripped back nearly half of the 
intervening distance from the flock to gaze at the spot 
where I was. I waited some time for this turkey to 
move away, until finally it got to seeing too much, 
and I had to abandon the idea of a shot at the bunch 
of gobblers, and fired the buckshot (a great mistake) 
at the intruder. He was wounded, but escaped. 
While trying to yelp one of the scattered flock out of 
a distant treetop an hour later, I heard a deer whistle, 
to windward, beyond a thicket. Later still, when I 
moved for a better view of the turkey, there came that 
light sound of the hoof strokes of running deer, and a 
glimpse was caught of three, as they passed a distant 
opening in the brush. A snap shot at the last was a 
miss. 
Soon afterward Mr. Allen joined me, and a turkey 
fell before his gun. 
The noon hour was spent at camp, and the afternoon 
in the same ground as the morning. One turkey was 
added to the bag. 
Next day the start homeward was made. Two 
"drives" were made of long, narrow peninsulas in the 
river bank, by one of the party getting ashore and 
waiting until the boat had run down to the lower end 
of the "drive," then walking noisily down toward them. 
On one of these a deer was jumped, when the driver 
had come even with him on the opposite side of the 
peninsula, giving him an opportunity to run back the 
wrong way. Only a glimpse of him was had through 
the thick brush. 
A few more squirrels were killed. Doc's launch is 
a beauty, and he promised to take me again. 
Tripod. 
Missi.ssippi. 
A Day at Waverly. 
She was visiting her old Southern home again, after 
a residence of several years in the East. I had known 
her for only a short while, when, one night, I remarked 
to _my room-mate : "G. B., she likes to hunt, and we are 
going out together some day to try the quail." "Ah!" he 
responded, warmly, "she's a girl after my own heart !" 
And I echoed the sentiment. 
Waverly is a typical ante-bellum Southern home, of 
which few are left in this section. It is still beautiful 
to him of an aesthetic temperament, but there are many 
signs of a pristine glory now existing only in the history 
of our "before-the war" South — a South the splendor and 
the hospitality of whose homes will be sung as long as 
poet wields pen. The hospitality is still there, but where 
are the deer parks and fish ponds? Where the magnifi- 
cent libraries and paintings? Where the dashing steeds 
and yelping packs? Where the luxurious ease of living? 
I'he answer is too well known. 
Pre-eminent among these was Waverly, now almost the 
only ante-bellum home left in the county, the others hav- 
ing yielded, one by one, to the fire demon. But the glory 
of Waverly has not entirely passed, for, in the cosy sitting 
room, upon the broad, vine-covered verandas or beneath 
the shade of the live oaks and pines upon the spacious 
lawn, it is still the delight of the family to entertain their 
friends, and still the delight of those fortunate enough to 
be so regarded to enjoy their bounteous hospitality. 
The train was slightly belated, but I reached Waverly 
in time to join the family at breakfast. My time had been 
so taken up throughout the season that I had found only 
one opportunity of testing my new Remington ejector, 
and while I was eager to do some execution with it, I was 
inclined to think that the time would be more profitably 
spent_ in shooting robins and waxwings about the hills 
than in the pursuit of the wary Bob White with a member 
of the gentler sex who was more accustomed to ballroom 
floors than to water-soaked corn and cotton fields ; but 
she said "the quail first," and ever woman has her way. 
Although we were some eight or nine miles from the 
nearest point on the Mississippi River, yet the water was 
at a high stage, and had backed up into the fields until 
there was only a strip about a quarter of a mile wide be- 
tween it and the foot of the hills, there being no levees 
along this part of the river on the Mississippi side. We 
had left Prince, the young dog, at home, taking with us 
Beulah, an old stager, but before we turned off from the 
railroad Prince came bounding up, having "broken jail," 
so we had to include him in our outfit. Near the water's 
edge the dogs nosed a covey, but got jealous of each other 
and crowded them so closely that they flushed before we 
were within good range. My companion was always on 
deck and needed no instruction as to when to shoot, but 
there was little hope of stopping one of this covey, on ac- 
count of the long range at which she had to take them. 
One bird came closer, giving me a cross shot, and I 
brought him down in the overflow water and he was re- 
trieved by Beulah. It was impossible to follow up this 
covey, as they crossed the intervening water and entered 
the woods. 
The second covey were feeding in the corn stubble and 
somewhat scattered. Again the dogs got excited and we 
had only chance shots. I bagged a bird, but the other 
gun only feathered one, which was good, for who would 
expect an inexperienced girl to kill quail on the wing? 
But wait. The third covey was roaded beautifully by 
Beulah, and Prince backed her up, the two making a pic- 
ture that would delight the heart of any sportsman. 
But when they arose all we got was feathers and the 
painful knowledge that a broken leg was dangling from 
one poor bird. This was bad. Could it be that I was 
rattled by the feminine presence? Perhaps. But one 
wary old fellow who had thought to evade us, being a 
little apart from the main bunch, had stuck to his cover 
and "laid low." Alas for him that he did not take wing 
with the others, for Beulah's excellent nose told her that 
there was more in that little clump of weeds than the 
spirit of the departed. I waited for Miss B. to shoot, and 
as the bird kept on, let him have my long-range barrel 
with good effect. "See, I have wiped your eye." But t 
