Oct. 4, igo^.J 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
cominer of the first- blizzard, put in the daylight hours of 
ihrce successive days cramming the stove with all the 
wood he had prepared, and with 400 feet of seasoned pine 
flooring, on hand to finish the upper floor, and which 
barely sufficed to save the shivering family until peace 
agam ruled in the atmosphere; and as in his hurried 
preparation for winter he had only been able to build a 
shed with pole and hay roof for his horses, and the fight 
with the blizzard being so terribly earnest that he had 
not dared to venture out once to look at his horses, but 
had abandoned them to their fate, told the waiter that 
when it became for the first time possible to see the stable 
that he never laughed so in all his life, for the snow 
having been blown into every crevice of the stable had 
filled it almost to the roof, and the horses, fortunately 
havmg been tied wdth plenty of rope room, had trampled 
the snow until it raised them to the roof, and in their 
hunger having eaten the hay roof, now stood on their 
snowy floor with their necks outstretched above the top 
oi- the stable, some twelve feet above the ground, and 
their bodies being completely hidden by the high wall 
-of the stable, he had to rub his eyes and look twice to 
assure himself that they were not a pair of giraflfes. 
This much of preface is here given in the hope that the 
reader may gain somewhat of an understanding of the 
conditions which confronted the pioneer when, as was 
not seldom the case, he was called upon to peril his life 
for the saving of others. 
And seldom— if ever— was he thus weighed in the bal- 
ances and found wanting. 
Immediately after the great Indian massacre of 1862 
the Government constructed a line of stockades across 
from Mankato, Minnesota, toward Sioux City, Iowa, and 
for a few years maintained a cavalry force which patrolled 
this frontier line until the Sioux were defeated and driven 
back by the soldiers and the Pawnee scouts under Major 
Frank North, when they were sent for duty elsewhere, 
and the abandoned line of the old stockades stood fey: 
years as mementoes of more turbulent days. 
Fifteen miles east of Jackson, Minn., stood one of these 
abandoned fortifications, the lee side of its palisaded 
wall being often used as a windbreak by travelers obliged 
to camp on the open prairie. 
Early in the winter of 1866-7, if I recollect aright, an 
officer of the United States Regular Army despatched an 
c'lnbulancje in the care of two trusty soldiers to bring his 
v^ife and two small children across the country from 
Mankato, Minn., to the winter quarters where he was 
stationed at Sioux City, la. It was a long, tedious 
drive across the country, entirely too late in the season 
for such a venture, and the cold came on quicklv. 
Before their return began snow fell to the depth of 
nearly a foot, and while striving to reach the timber on 
the Des Moines RiA^er for. a night camp, the ambulance 
w.'th its five passengers was so delayed by the snow that 
night overtook them at the old stockade just as the first 
great blizzard of the season came down from the north- 
vvest "like a. wolf on the fold." 
Under the lee of the old fortification they camped as 
best they could. The brave soldiers, realizing that it had 
now quickly become a matter of life and death for the 
lady and the two little innocents committed to their 
charge, spread a buffalo robe in the bottom of the vehicle 
upon which the woman and children lay down, when they 
wrapped them in the remaining robes and blankets— know- 
ing that there were not robes enough to protect them all — 
and endeavored to battle through the long winter night 
under the lee of the old palisade. 
When the awful night had dragged slowly away and 
the welcome light of morning dawned upon the unfortu- 
rate wayfarers, one man was found to be too badly 
frozen to move. The other managed to untie the horses, 
and turning the weaker one loose to shift for itself, finally 
succeeded in crawling upon the back of the other, when, 
the blizzard having slackened in its fury enough to enable 
him to see his way, he guided the horse slowly along the 
road, and along toward noon appeared at the little settle- 
ment at Jackson at the house of a man named Thomas, 
where, through his stiflfened lips he slowly articulated his 
pitiful tale. 
In his stable Mr. Thomas had a pair of fiery young 
bays which were not to be matched upon the frontier, and 
which were to the old man almost as the apple of his eye. 
If the lull in the blizzard continued, the people could be 
rescued. The outlook in the northwest was very threat- 
ening, and later it came on to blow with terrific power. 
But would the fury of the storm be delayed? 
In this question hung the lives of all who were exposed. 
Turning to his eldest son, a quiet young man of un- 
flinching courage, he said: "Lant, throw the harness on 
the bays, take the two-seated cutter and go for those 
people. And look here, my boy, never mind the horses; 
you send them along for all that is in them ! Bring those 
people in just as quick as you know how to do it I" 
Not ten minutes elapsed until the little group of by- 
standers, including the boy's mother and the rest of h« 
children, saw the brave young fellow's head droop low 
down over his left shoulder as he swung out from under 
the lee of the protecting cover into the full force of the 
blast, on the line of his northeast flight across the plain; 
and then to their anxious gaze the flying ship of mercy 
grew rapidly less and less in apparent size, and then 
vanished bej^ond a distant swell of the prairie. 
Nothing now for the anxious mother but to watch the 
old family clock; and how slowly the long minute hand 
crawled around ! 
Breathing upon the frosted window panes to keep a 
space clear, through which to watch for the return of 
the absent brother, the children kept vigil, while to their 
impatient _ hearts the very seconds crept and crawled ! 
The condition of the boy's road across the prairie was 
good. Save for the grassy patches which had escaped 
the autumnal prairie fire, the snowy surface was hard 
enough to support the team, and the beautiful horses were 
in the very pink of prime condition. 
.All too soon for their expectations, and almost too 
?con for the hungry eyes of the watchers to credit the 
ipparition, a dark speck rose above the northeast horizon 
ind growing rapidly larger in their gratified sight swept 
iown the long slope toward the timber with the speed of 
;he wind. 
One minute short of the exact measure of two hours 
that recorded the boy's absence, the racing bays— wild- 
iyed and jstraxning still to go— were reined up at the door, 
when strong arms lifted the sufferers from the sleigh and 
bore them into the house. 
Although chilled almost to death, the woman and 
children were found to be not frozen. The soldier who 
rfcmained with them lost both feet and one hand, while 
the brave messenger lost a hand and a foot. 
Such were the battles fought in the changing of this 
wild land front savagery to civilization; and such were 
the men who made the change possible. 
Orin Belknap. 
In Boyhood Days. 
In the series of excellent picture supplements that 
Forest and Stream has recently given to its readers, the 
one that appeals most stronglv to my mind is the one 
antitled 'Tn Boyhood Days." 
"That's me" in the foreground in the picture. I was 
a boy of exactly that size and age once; I wore just such 
a cloth cap made by my mother, just such a "roundabout" 
and just such long' pants. In those days in a country vil- 
lage there were no clothing or hat stores ; and the hand- 
some sailor suits, knickerbockers, etc., of these davs were 
unknown. Everything in the way of a boy's clothing was 
home-made; the only variety depended on the mother's 
taste and skill in needle' work and the father's means to 
buy the materials. I remember my usual summer uniform 
consisted of a pair of blue drilling trousers— we did not 
call them "pants"— a white cotton shirt with a collar wide 
enough to have pleased my Lord Byron, and a chip hat 
that cost a "levy." That was mv summer outfit. It was 
tlie very thing. It was the work of but a moment to cast 
oft my clothes, and a part of them was doffed on the 
run, as I broke for the river to take one of my dozen-a- 
day baths in the cooling wave ; and if after a few weeks' 
service the crown of the hat departed to unknown re- 
gions, 'twas 
"ne'er deemed an ill — 
It only let the sunshine still 
Repose upon my head." 
That is Tip just before me there in the picture; his tail 
twisted up so tight from blissful expectation that he can 
hardly get his hind feet down to the ground. Poor Tip ! 
He has been awaiting me in the happy hunting ground for 
many a year. 
I had just such a light, little, old shotgun as that in the 
picture, but a dreadful kicker she was. I remember one 
summer evening just at the edge of Strong's thicket, as I 
was coming along, I saw a robin hopping over the ground 
a few yards away. Just there lay the trunk of a tree 
that had been blown over, and the upturned roots with a 
mass of earth still clinging to them formed a complete 
screen. I stepped behind this screen. It was a little too 
high, but by standing on my tiptoes I was able to sight 
along the barrel. The butt of the gun was against my 
chin. I did not think of its recalcitrating propensities, 
and when I pulled the trigger and the gun went off. it 
knocked me backward clear off my feet. The robin, with 
a complacent grin on his face, flew away unharmed. 
I have got just such a shotgun now. Some years ago 
when I was in very poor health I thought if I had a light 
shotgun like the one I had when I was a boy, it would 
be pleasant and would do me good to walk out into the 
woods and "hunt." I went to Bown, the veteran gun 
dealer on Smithfield street, Pittsburg, and told him I 
wanted a light shotgun to shoot at birds with, but one 
that would not hit the birds. The old man laughed; he 
said he had sold a good many guns in his life, but had 
never been asked for one like that before, but he believed 
he had the gun. And so he had. I bought it. I have it 
yet. So long as you stand anywhere in front of it, you 
are safe enough ; but woe to the man behind the gun when 
"she goes off." 
I don't know that the artist meant it, but that stone 
fence is the one that used to stand near the corner of 
Captain Peters' farm, down by the river, and I remember 
that Isaac Wynn and I had hard thoughts of the farmer 
one cold morning because he objected to our tearing down 
a rod or two of it to get a rabbit, which, fleeing across 
the field in advance of Tip and Pomp and old Major, fol- 
lowed by Isaac and me, had taken refuge in the crevices. 
1 his was the era before the shotgun spoken of, when the 
only firearms we had was a Mattock; but between old 
Major and the Mattock we brought to light and captured 
ivany a rabbit and oposg^m. 
Very pleasant to the old man are the memories of the 
past, just as the dreams of the future are pleasing to the 
growing boy. The latter feels that the world is his oyster. 
He expects to be able to do anything "when he is a man" ; 
and though afterward he realizes that he has done 
nothing, life is not insupportable on that account. If he 
has not achieved greatness he has perhaps found hap- 
piness, and that is better; and thas viewing it I have 
constructed the following lines to fit the case: 
Dreams. 
I dreamed of Fame; her chaplet fair 
Seemed ever just before me; * 
Tumultuous voices filled the air 
With loud hosannas o'er me. 
Of Fortune, too, I dreamed; a slight 
And easy thing to make it; 
Whene'er I would I surely might 
Reach forth my hand and take it. 
But youthful dreams end oft in dreams; 
Time came and went so lightly. 
That naught remained but backward gleams 
Of what I held so slightly. 
Yet life has been a precious thing; 
■'Twas trebly worth the living. 
And now at day's decline I sing 
A song of glad thanksgiving, 
t 
For Love her arms around me cast. 
And Joy, the bright-eyed, kissed me. 
Though Fame and Fortune both have passed. 
And somehow they have missed me. 
T. J. Chapman, 
All communications intended for Forest and Stream should 
always be addressed to the Forest and Stream Publishing Co., New 
Y«rli^ aad not to aay individual connected with the iwper. 
A Study of the Rattlesnake. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I am going to write about rattlesnakes, but will devote 
a passing word to Mr. Jos. W. Shurter. I agree with th.it 
gentleman in assuming that Forest and Stream readers 
are probably no longer interested in our little controversy, 
and we might continue to multiply words indefinitelv to 
no purpose. It grieves me. however, that Mr. Shurter is 
still worrying over my inadvertent use of the name "Uncle 
Daniel" mstead of "Uncle Noah," and to put a final molli- 
fying touch to his wounded sensibilities I hereby formally 
withdraw the name Daniel and substitute Noah in its 
place. It may amuse Mr. Shurter to know that I was 
myself amused at the simpleness of my error when 
pointed out by him. 
In general, it appears to me that Mr. Shurter has taken 
a too narrow and superficial view of the subject of our 
controversy, seeing only existing conditions and their 
apparent proximate causes, without apprehending the 
broader relations which the "sporting" propensity in man 
bears to his racial history. 
If Mr. Shurter considers that I have gone out of the 
bounds of Forest and Stream courtesy in my manner of 
writing, I wish here to express my regrets and offer 
apologies, and so take -leave of that gentleman with assur- 
ances of my distinguished consideration. 
Rattlesnakes. 
I suppose there are many persons who know a great 
deal about Crotalus horridus, and many others who have 
a good deal of information about him "that ain't so." I 
have been trying lately to acquire some exact knowledge 
on the subject with indifferent success. I have two large 
rattlesnakes confined in a large box with a wire screen 
.^^^ top. I have been watching them as closely as 
official duties would permit in order to find out something 
about them, but have not found out very much. 
These snakes were captured by my son while surveying 
in the canebrakes in this vicinity. The first one, Jonah by 
name, was caught in June ; the other, named Joseph aarly 
in August. 
Jonah is about five and a half feet long, and has eight 
rattles. Joseph is about six feet long and has also eight 
rattles. They have both evidently lost some, as the rattles 
have blunt terminals. Various kinds of live food have 
been offered them, as chickens, rats, guinea pigs, and 
garter snakes, toward all of which they have shown a 
total lack of interest, and their intended victims ex- 
hibited as little concern about the rattlers. These various 
articles of diet were permitted to remain in the box for 
days, and even weeks, all dwelling together in apparent 
harmony. On one occasion, while observing them, I saw 
Joseph approach a chicken with agparently murderous in- 
tent, and when close to his victim drew back his head for 
a strike. The chicken gazed earnestly into the snake's 
eyes and gravely pecked him in the center of his nose 
whereupon the sriake withdrew. 
On another occasion Joseph was observed to watch in-- 
tently a rat that was climbing about the sides of the box 
very much m the semblance of a squirrel, which is the 
rattler's natural food. I waited, expecting a tragedy 
shortly; but the rat presently ran up to a bowl of water 
near the snake's head, and after taking a drink he got on 
the snake's neck and trotted down his back to his tail 
without attracting any notice, 
Jonah is supposed to have eaten four young rats and 
two garter snakes, about two months ago. The only 
evidence of this performance, however, was the disappear- 
aKce of those creatures from the box. The garter snakes 
may possibly have gotten out, but it cannot be supposed 
that the rats went otherwhere than down the rattler's 
throat. Notwithstanding that supposed reflection, Jonah 
has become emaciated to a marked degree, and Joseph, 
who has certainly eaten nothing for nearly two months^ 
has also appreciably lost flesh. They are both observed to 
drink water not infrequently, sucking it up slowly after 
the manner of a cow when drinking. 
The box is on a back porch, and is somewhat exposed 
to the weather. When a rainstorm approaches both 
snakes become very uneasy, raising their heads up to the 
screen and seeking a way to get out. This action is in- 
variable with one or both when a storm is threatening. 
Jonah shed his skin in August, during my absence, and 
the operation was not observed by me. My office clerk 
says he was a good while getting it all off, in fragments, 
having a difficulty in utilizing a small box that he had 
access to, against which the old skin was rubbed off. 
Joseph changed his suit last Friday, Sept. 19. For several 
v.-eeks he had been growing very dark and dingy in color, 
the markings on his skin being scarcely discernible. 
About a week before he shed his old skin his eyes be- 
came opaque and of a light blue or skim-milk color; but 
they cleared up before the shedding process began, which 
surprised me. A branch of a bush had been placed in the 
box to aid him in getting off his old clothes, and he ac- 
complished that business between 2:30 and 4 P. M., when 
no one was looking on. 
_ He is now_ rejoicing in a glorious new suit, the markings 
rich and vivid, with the tail a deep velvety black. Neither 
of these snakes added a new rattle in the process of shed- 
ding, a feature which the snake authorities had led me to 
expect; and I suppose we must fall back on the old idea 
that a new rattle process is grown each year instead of 
appearing with each new shedding. 
My observation of these snakes, as well as my general 
experience, and that of others, has impressed me with 
their disinclination to strike, under ordinary circumstances. 
The fangs and venom are provided primarily as a means 
of capturing their prey, not far purposes of defense as 
they never save the snake's life when attacked by an 
enemy. 
When a rattler is first captured, what with rough 
handling and novel surroucdings, he is kept in a state of 
excitement and alarm, and is then ready to strike when 
disturbed. But after becoming accustomed to the situa- 
tion and learning that no harm threatens him, he is no 
longer disposed to strike. 
The larger of these snakes has never struck at anything 
