FOREST AND STREAM. 
249 
without a shot. Burt became solicitous. "What ails 
you?" he asked. "You look worried." "1 am," I re- 
plied. "What seems to be the trouble?" "Indians," I 
replied. "Where?" "At the camp." "Steal anything?" 
"No." "Have anv trouble with them?" "No! Oh! No(?)" 
"Well, you look as if they had stolen all the grub." 
"No; nothing has gonc--b«t the Indian — and as I was 
getting lonesome 1 thought I would Come down here." 
"Well, brace up and get in the game; the shooting will 
be great this evening" — and it was. 
In the excitement attending the flight of ducks we 
had no time to talk, and the Indian subject was dropped. 
At dusk Ave started for camp, loaded down with ducks, 
and being too tired to cook anything when we reached 
camp, rolled up in our blankets after a cold Itmch and 
W'ere soon sound asleep. 
The next day Bob and I went to the nearest railroad 
station, seventeen miles away, with a half-breed whom 
we had engaged to haul our bag of ducks. 
On our return to Camp that evening it Was apparent 
that Burt and George had news for me. "YoU had a 
caller," said Burt. "Who?" "Cripple Buzzard or Limp- 
ing Eagle, or whatever his name is," said George. 
"Why do you say he called ott We?" said I, tryittg to ap- 
pear indifferent and at the same time making haSte to 
get my Colt out of my grip and placing it ifi my hip 
pocket. "Because he inquired for the white Medicitle 
Man with the whiskers, At least that's hoW we ititer- 
preted his few words and nlany signs, and I gliesa yoll 
are 'it' old man." That settled it in hiy mind; Lame 
Eagle was looking for trouble, and me. I looked at the 
boys in a half-hearted way and told them they were 
joking, but they insisted not. 
We were in the midst of supper of broiled jacksnipe 
and other good things when a slight noise at the door 
attracted my attention, and looking up I beheld Lame 
Eagle. I reached for my pistol but did not draw it. 
"How!" grunted my guest of yesterday, who I was now 
confident was my deadly enemy. "How! Lame Eagle," 
I replied. "White tixM goWe oUt tfeepSfe " "AH right," 
1 replied, as he turned away; then to the boys in an un- 
dertone I gave them to understand that their guns 
should be ready for quick use, and to look out for other 
Indians, and at the first shot to pump it into 'em, but 
not to follow me out of the tent, Then, with_my hand 
on my Colt, I went to the dbbr. My Su&piCi5n§ XWrc 
confirmed, for tiiere in the darkness stood Lame Eagle 
and another Indian. I stopped at the door, deciding 
that they would have to "get me" with a gun, for I 
would not get close enough for knife or tomahawk. 
"What do you want?" I asked, The reply ^'rom Lame 
Eagle was more surprising than a shot. "SqUaw heap 
sick." 1 nearly fainted. The strain of prospective hos- 
tilities broken, 1 Was willing to make eoektailg accord- 
ing to formula before rafehti'qtied, foi' a tribe of Ihdianfe, 
and as I Went into the tent the boys, who had had their 
ears to the ground, hailed ine With, "Anythmg serioUs, 
doctor?" 1 went straight to the "buflet" and soon had 
a draught for the lady, rather milder than that prepared 
for her better half, which she .^toVVed aWSy With ilUich 
scowling and GhrUggihg and several grunts of approval. 
Thtn Laine Eagle gave the squaw a command and she 
hurried away into the darkness. 
"White man wait," said our guest, and soon back came 
lier ladyship leading the ugliest pony I ever laid my eyes 
upon, and carrying a papoose on hel- bat?k: Aiaih Lahle 
Eagle tuad?« a bfiet laik — "Papoose heap sick," and at 
that moment a howl of laughter came from the tent. As 
I went in Once more to the "buffet" I struck right and 
left, clearing the way, with a streak of blue air follow- 
ing me. Having dosed the baby With a dihited pOrtion 
of the formula, wliicli nearly threw it into spasms, the 
dimax of the affair occurred. The squaw addressed me 
with. "WhHe man got squaw?" "Sure, Mike!" I re- 
plied. "Me give white squaw this." and out of the folds 
of her blanket she pulled a beautiful pair of beaded 
moccasins. Now, I did feel guilty; these people, grate- 
ful for something that had started in a foolish joke, and 
which might have had a vefv serious tet'mmation, were 
actually returning good for eVih Lame Eagle, then^cattle 
Up and tied the pdny to the tent pole, and again in 
his characteristic fashion said, "Lame Eagle give white 
man pony," and with that the squaw took the papoose 
on her back and began to hike homeward with her 
liege lord limping after her. The only reply to a good- 
by sent after them was a grunt. 
"Well what do you think of that?" I said, throwing 
myself down on a pile of blankets and filling my pipe. 
"We could tell better if you would give us some of the 
first chapters of the romance and the recipe for the dope, 
said Burt. So, with the understanding that we would 
not tell of the matter, for fear of being refused the privi- 
lege of hunting on the reservation in the future, I ex- 
plained it all, and I am sure that in the five years that 
have elapsed no one has heard of the incident. 
My wife prizes the moccasins highly and wdl no doubt 
be surprised to read the history of them. 
The pony we found useful in going to and from An- 
son's Ranch, and on leaving we turned him loose and 
he took the trail for the reservation without loss of time 
Anson tells me that the Indian »ame to his ranch several 
times since with the pony, explaining that he was look- 
ing for the white Medicine Man with the whiskers, who 
had lost his pony. • , ■ r n i 
We expect to visit the Sand Hdls again this fall and 
will probably see Lame Eagle, who, I hope, will not 
he heap sick, so I can present him with something 
worth while and not have to make more listerine cock- 
j^jjg^ WiLLiAJi Burton. 
A Quaker Designation. 
If you can spare the space, I'd like to tell a story, 
merely to show how little some people know about gims. 
When I was a boy I was at the house of an old Penn- 
sylvania Quaker, and even then the shooting fever was 
strono-, and I had my gun with nae, which stood, when 
not in use, in one corner of the sitting room. 
One day the good old lady came gently up to me, and 
pointmg toward that corner said: ''tf thee dont take 
■that thing awav I'll cut tl.u- spout ott. 
St. Augustine, Sept. 1. 
§Hni0 §Hg Httd §mu 
Proprietors of shooting resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Stksau. 
Across New Brunswick on Snow 
shoes.-^IL 
Thy there is Game in New BranawJck. 
The extent of a country is not always to be measured 
hy its area in miles, but sometirnes rather by its acces- 
sibility. It takes less than two days to go from Chicago 
to the Blackfoot reservation of Montana, and another 
day will take one into the hunting grounds there — a trip 
running into the thousands of miles. Yet at th^e beet, 
Adam Moore and I could not get into the actual hunting, 
country of NeW Brunswick in less than three days from 
Fredericton. This difficulty of access might at hasty 
glance be thought something disadvantageous. Not in the 
least sOj but quite the contrary. The game region of 
New Brunswick, although it is a small one so far as the 
question of miles is concerned, is really a very large one, 
and one hot soon to be exhausted. It is in fact hedged 
about by so many difficulties of transportation that it is 
not only a natural game, preserve, but one naturally pro- 
tected. It would not pay a market-hunter to try to kill 
game for the market anywhere in the region we visited. 
The game wardens would prevent him from selling his 
tnOOsfe meat or caribou meat to the lumbering camps, and 
he himself could iiot bring it out to the railroad, evert 
were he sure of escaping detection, and^sell it at any profit 
to himself. The only access to the Interior of the big 
strip of country which lies between the forks of the rail- 
road which runs northeast and northwest from Fred- 
ericton are the truly terrible "tote roads" of the lumber- 
ing cSmps. One does not always find game close to a tote 
road. He must kill his game and get it out by man 
power. There are no horses used ift hunting in New 
Brunswick. A pack train could be taken in, as 1 believe, 
over a good part of the country, but the trouble is that 
th^re is no food for the horses. Out in the Rocky Moun- 
taiiis the qugstioH of horse feed is one which gives no 
concern. This cutting doWtt the transportation to one 
simply of man power is of the utmost donseqtience in 
the preservation of the New^ Brunswick game. Of course 
there are the streams, but they are streams in nearly every 
instance leased and guarded. If you kill a moose, the 
fact is known. If you send out too many caribou hides 
l.he fact Is known. If j'ou start a toboggan load or canoe 
load of meat or fur, there is always some one to ask 
where it came ffom and where it is going. 
TheV have game in NeW Brunswick, and they are go- 
ing to'have it for a good deal longer time than you and I 
will be interested in the matter. One of the greatest 
reasons for this is the inaccessibility of the country, an- 
other reason is the excellent enforcemwit of the game 
law, yet another is the fact that the game law limits the 
bag^ to a single moose and a single caribou to each gun. 
And still another reason, in the opinion of all New Bruns- 
wick guides and citizens, is the non-resident license, which 
excludes a great deal of the thoughtless public. How- 
ever Wfe may ieok upon the license on this side of the 
line, the New Brunswick man regards it merely as so 
much insurance for a good sporting trip. 
"You put up your license, and it's a very little item in a 
trip that is going to cost $400 or $500, anyhow," say they. 
"Would you not better pay that extra item of insurance 
and get what y6U coffle after, rather than save that small 
amount and go somewhere and not get w'hat you want, or 
than to come here and not get what you want? It's just 
like fire insurance. It costs a little something, but you 
are willing to pay it for the feeling of safety and for 
the guaranty w^hich it offers." 
So much for the New Brunswick point of view. They 
sold about $8,000 worth of licenses last year, and they 
think that something like $75,ooo or $80,000 was left in 
the Province by sportsmen. The guides have a proverb 
that "it takes a month to get a moose," and that it costs 
a sportsman about $500 for his trip. Of course these 
figures are subject to all manner of change, for some- 
times the trip costs very much less and sometimes the 
moose is had very much sooner. The man dreaded of all 
others by the honest New Brunswick guide is the one 
who has been so inflated with ideas of the ease and cer- 
tainty of sport in New Brunswick that he is persuaded he 
ought to go out and kill his moose and caribou within a 
few days or a few hours after he strikes camp. Indeed, 
this is sometimes done, often done, but the guide wants 
no sportsman who is not sportsman enough to know that 
the pursuit of this big game is full enough of doubt and 
diificulties to be worthy indeed of the name of sport. Of 
which more presently. 
Gotog into the Wilderness. 
Adam and I struck a belated railway train on the 
Canadian Pacific from Fredericton. We reached Plaster 
Rock, after our long rail voyage up the beautiful St. 
John River, at 9 P. M. We took supper at 10:30 at a 
country inn and then started out, with the thermometer 
around zero, for a beautiful winter night's sleigh ride, it 
being our resolution to push on into the wilderness as 
rapidly as possible. We reached another wayside inn 
known as Riley Brook at 3 o'clock in the morning. We 
were now pushing up that bold and beautiful river known 
a* the Tobique— a river which I had read about for years, 
and which I imagined was about the jumping-off place of 
all the world. I chuckled to myself as we spun along up 
the river thinking how, sooner or later, everything comes 
to us which we really desire. I had seen pictures m the 
Forest a^d Stream of Tobique sable traps. Now here I 
was on the Tobique . and about to learn more of sable 
than perhaps ever I wot of. , , ^ , ^, 
Riley Brook is on the banks of the Tobique, and the 
local landlord, Mr. Ross, controls the riparian rights to 
the salmon pool here. The entire stream and its tribu- 
taries are leased to a salmon fishing club, and be it re- 
membered that, when one goes fishing in New Brunswick, 
he must be mighty careful where he is and on whose 
toes he is treading before he begins to cast his fly. 
On Tuesday morning, Dec, 3, we continued our journey, 
not indeed having slept more than an hour or so at 
Riley Brook. Our team was a good one, and by 9 o'clock 
in the morning we were at the forks of the Tobique. 
Here we found the lodge of the Tobique Salmon Flailing 
Club, situated at the foot of a noble pool, where I am told 
there is grand fishing in season. We found this pool 
covered with ice not quite strong enough to safely carry 
our team. The right hand fork of the stream was frozen 
half over, and the other half showed a ford of perhaps 
a couple of hundred yards of swift and icy water belly 
deep to the horses. It was a bit cruel, but nothing better 
offering, we had to put the team through this ford, run- 
ning our loaded sleds across by hand power. Luckily no 
harm resulted, and by noon we found an abandoned lum- 
ber camp, known as the Red Bank, of the Hale lumber 
operations, and here we put our horses in the warm 
barn while we "boiled the kettle," as the New Brunswick 
saying goes, in what was originally the bunk house. 
We were now well entered upon a journey up a lumber 
tote road, one of the best tote roads in New Brunswick, 
and on one of the best chains of lumber camps in the 
Province. What that road would be if stripped of its 
covering protection of snow, I would rather not imagine. 
It crossed a continual succession of little choppy hijls, 
winding around the bottom of these slopes and sticking 
to the Tobique Valley closely. There were several bumps 
and jolts on that tote road, perhaps even more. We 
were not sorry when we reached the Red Brook camp 
kept by a quiet old man named Glasier, who cooks for 
the tote teamsters, and is glad to see strangsrs at this 
time of year. We ate his pork and beans and drank his 
tea with cheerfulness, and passed a good night in the 
camp. 
In the morning we found the appearance of nature 
offering much change, A tremendous storm had come 
up, the first of the great storms this winter in New 
Brunswick, and the air Avas filled with a mist of the softly 
falling snow. It was a dozen miles yet to the next camp, 
v/hich would be the end of horse transportation on our 
road into Adam's first camp. The team, plucky little 
horses they were, now showed signs of wear and tear, 
yet they carried us up to the next camp in time for lunch, 
though by this time the snow was more than two feet 
deep. Here we found Glazier Dickinson in charge of the 
camp, and old man Gibson "the lumber scaler, and Brown 
the cook, a fabricator of most excellent brown bread and 
ginger cake. To all these \ve gave due and proper atten- 
tion, and here wc dismissed the team, which had brought 
us sixty-five miles from the railroad. 
We were not yet quite in the wilderness, so Adam 
told me, and not yet quite at his camp. There remained 
six miles of foot travel, and the question was whether to 
undertake it that evening or not. Adam at this camp 
turned up with his son Jack, a strapping y®ung fellow 
twentv-two years of age, nearly as tall as his daddy, and 
one of the best men physically that I ever ran up against 
in my life. Questioned as to whether we should try to 
make the six miles that afternoon or spend the night at 
the cheerful camp where we found ourselves, we decided 
that we would better push on through. Hence we ar- 
ranged our packs and presently started out, Adam and 
Jack insisting on dividing my own dunnage, although it 
made for each of them a pack whose sheer dead weight 
caused me to shudder. 
"Can Jack carrv that thing?" I asked of Adam. 
"Well, if he can't," was the heartless reply, "he hasn't- 
got any business up in this country." And he did carry 
the pack. ., , . , 
These two husky products of Canadian soil fairly 
v.-alked aw^ay from me, although I had nothing but my 
snoAvshoes and rifle to botlier me. We did about two 
miles or so through the soft snow and at last came out 
on the shore of that beautiful body of water known as 
the Nictau or Nictor Lake, along which we were to 
journey for something like three miles further. Here 
the going was easier, for the water had come up over 
the ice and melted the snow underneath, so that it w;as 
not so deep. Score one for the shoepacks, and_ likewise 
one for the rubber shoes, for had we been wearing moc- 
casins we should have been drenched to the bone. As it 
was, we traveled along for three miles, the guides looking 
around occasionally to see how the city man was doing. 
The city man was prettv tired, having discovered all at 
once that he was pretty near no good for this trip; this 
due to all kinds of ideas of what a man can do in the 
city without killing himself. 
"Now," said Adam, as he stopped for a time and swept 
a comprehensive arm about him into the bleak face of 
the swirling storm, "we are in the wilderness. Never an 
ax has been set in a tree from here over to our camps. _ 
Once in a while, through a rift in the blinding storm, I 
could catch a glimpse of blufif, rolling hills covered with 
bleak forests and surmounted with twisting weather of 
fog. Then the sweep of the storm would come again and 
blot it all out. We could not see more than a few hun- 
dred yards in any direction and hence lost one of the 
prettiest sights of the journey. As it was, twdight was 
comino- with the thickening storm, when at last we 
reached the end of the lake, broke through a couple of 
hundred yards of hip-deep snow and came out into a little 
clearing 'in the middle of which there stole up a silent 
column of blue smoke, and shone the red eye of welcome 
from a cabin window. So new we clattered our snow- 
shoes free of snows and dropped our packs upon the 
floor, and welcomed Charlie Cremin as he welcomed us, 
the same Charlie being Adam's partner, who had been 
up in the camp all the fall running his trapping lines, 
while Adam had gone out to meet me at Fredericton. 
Charlie had a dozen sable skins, and one fisher, or black- 
cat drying on stretchers, and at the time we caught him 
was skinning a sable which he had caught that afternoon. 
He had two or three weasels on the table, which later he 
skinned for his own amusement. . He finally gave me a 
bunch of weasel skins as a present to Madam, who pur- 
poses doing all kinds of things with them one c^f these 
^^Presently Charlie disappeared around the corner of the 
house, and" when he came back he had several steaks from 
a caribou saddle. 
"Can we get oue of those fellows? I a^ea> 
"Get one !" said Charlie, an4 he ende^ his answer witfi 
