OS 
one made the remark, "Well, boys, I guess you are right," 
and the party vanished as suddenly as they had come. 
Their object we never could even guess, and the incident 
soon pas'^ed from our minds. 
I shall never forget the few hunts for wild turkey we 
had. The mention of one will suffice. It had been a 
beautiful mild December day. The nearly full moon was 
ris ng, shedding a flood of light. Our camp had been 
trade along the North Fork of the Canadian, and we had 
had our evening meal at the close of a successful day's 
hunt. After a good smoke, and when lying around the 
camp-fire. Hank said, "How would you like a turkey hunt 
to-night? I have seen sign, and we might go down the 
river and find a few on the roost," so he and I started 
out. We had gone but a mile or so when a large black 
object was seen fully sixty feet up in a cottonwood, and 
ir. a whisper Hank said, "There's a turk." The shot was 
given me, and I, remembering his instructions, pulled 
from under on to the bird, and the moment the sight dis- 
appeared, let go a heavy charge of No. i shot, followed by 
the second barrel. For an instant, silence, then a crash 
through the limbs, and a faint, distant thud. After look- 
ing for some time, the bird was found — a fifteen-pound 
gobbler. Although we saw a number more the same 
night, this was the only success we had. One can hardlj' 
realize the work attending this sort of sport unless he has 
experienced it. The rough grounds along the river bank, 
exceedingly deceptive at night, overgrown with the be- 
fore-mentioned "green brier," the many thickets of under- 
growth, and the necessity of going over this character of 
ground with the utmost silence, leave a lasting impression 
of a hunt of this nature. Still the thrill one feels after 
he has crept up to and succeeded in killing a fine gobbler 
turkey more than compensates for the trouble taken. 
One day while driving through the Kickapoo reserva- 
tion, I noticed a collection of what looked to me like small 
pens built of logs, from two to three feet in height. In 
answer to my inquiry. Hank replied, "Indian burying 
ground, but we won't bother with looking at them now." 
Some weeks later we were on a trip some twenty miles 
southeast of O. K. City, when late in the afternoon I 
noticed one of these "pens" standing isolated on the open 
prairie, but not far from the timber line of the river. I 
asked to stop, but Hank said, "We are going to camp 
about a mile further on, and to-morrow morning, while 
the boys get breakfast, we will take the bitch and try a 
little morn'ng hunt back that way." So at sunrise we 
were up, and putting the dog out, started for the objective 
point. We had gone but a short distance, when the bitch 
began to trail, and going fully a quarter of a mile, gave 
a fine point on a covey of quail, of which we killed a 
number. We did not bother to hunt down the scattered 
covey, as coveys in those days were too plentiful and 
soon reached the grave. This was simply a pen, almost 
square, of small logs la d crossways, and built to a height 
of some three feet. The top was covered with logs laid 
parallel lengthwise of it. At one end were two poles 
about seven feet long, with an end of each imbedded in 
the ground, the other ends crossing and the whole 
forming an inverted V. Over the point of intersection 
was a rope, one end disappearing within the pen. Remov- 
ing the logs from the top, we saw within the body of an 
Indian, in a sitting posture, evidently having been there 
about a year. The end of the rope within the inclosure 
was noosed about the neck. The trunk was practically 
without any article of clothing, and the frame showed 
as a skeleton with a dry parchment stretched over it. Sand 
had drifted over the "legs, leaving but the feet exposed. 
The face and head 1 kewise had a perfectly dry appearance. 
On the ground around the body were numerous cooking 
utensils, and many pieces of bead work. After a due 
inspect on. we carefully replaced the logs on top, and with 
ray curiosity satisfied, we left, Hank remarking. "They 
always look like that, but don't always have the rope; I 
am not sure what that is for." 
On the return from this particular trip and when some 
SJx miles from the city, as we were driving along the 
trail, the dogs not hunting to any extent, game being 
scarce, my dog showed signs of a point, and working 
up to a clump of bushes on the open prairie, nearly a 
hundred yards away, suddenly came to a dead stand. 
"Well. Ed, we might as well take a shot," I remarked, 
supposing it to be quail, of course. We had not gone 
tweniy-five yards when the dog looked at me. I guessed 
something was up and called "Steady." Fie stiffened, 
then turned h's head, looked at me again and made a 
dash. Out jumped a doe and two lovely fawns, and away 
they went for the river, the dog full bent to catch one. I 
shall never forget the beautiful sight. They just played 
with that dog. running at full speed, then stopping and 
facing him until he almost reached them, when away they 
would whirl and make another run and face about; and 
so it went clear to the river, half a mile away, when they 
disappeared. In about fifteen minutes we saw the dog 
coming back, the nearer he approached the .slower he 
c«me. seeming to know what he would get. and he got it. 
On one of our trips to the new town .site of El Reno, at 
thai time consisting only of the land company's frame 
building and two very small, what Western parlance 
would designate "shacks," with a total population of 
five people, a party hailed me with. "Want to buy any wild 
turkeys?" "How many have you got?" we asked. "One 
hundred and ten pounds at five cents a pound." was the 
reply. We took them. There were eleven birds, nine 
hens and two gobblers. Not far from this place was Ft. 
Reno, w th the trading post of Darlington. Both . of these 
were within the limits of the Arapahoe and Cheyenne 
reservations, and if my memory serves me aright, Mon- 
day was "trading day," and on that day the post was 
thronged with Ind'ans from the reservation. We found 
the Arapahoes much more talkative than the Cheyennes, 
the latter being a surly lot but almost without exception 
of finer physique, of medium he ght, but very strongly 
rRU«i.ie'1 and powerful fvllows. Some of the headed buck- 
skin Icggins. skirls an<i moccasins worn by their squaws 
Were very fine, but it was about impossible to purchase 
any of these articles. The interior of one of the trading 
store? on trading day was most interesting, thronged by a 
crowd of Ind ans who exchanged beef hides— these from 
the animals issued to the tribe by the U. S. Government, 
and many of them bringing moccasins and beaded work 
in exchange for the necessary — or otherwise, articles kept 
in stock by the trader. 1 well recall the interest shown 
by some of the Indians in my hammerless shotgun. A 
lTiit}t;t§ ???fmii^^yon 0^ their part Uiki to rey^-^l to tfier?^ 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
how the gun was fired. A number inspected it carefully, 
and finally by signs asked how it was worked, but I did 
rot attempt to explain. This reservation was said to have 
fine chicken and turkey shooting, but the proximity of the 
fort prevented one from taking any chances of a hunt in 
that section. 
On two occasions we hunted for a week at a time in 
Oklahoma between the fort and O. K. City, and near the 
valley of the North Fork of the Canai*an, stopping with a 
party who was holding down a claim 'star the river. Here 
we found fairly good prairie chicken shooting, with some 
few quail, and the evenings were spent sitting in the 
shanty around the fire, listening to our friend's yarns, 
which at times fairly eclipsed Munchausen in his palmiest 
days. Etiquette prevented our showing any signs of dis- 
belief, but the stories were simply awful. An illustration 
will suffice. We were on the subject of bears, and our 
friend said: "Speaking of bears, I was running with a 
partner in the mountains of eastern California near 
Nevady. Bears were some plenty around there, and so 
one day we thought we would take a hunt. My pard had 
a fine gun, a Winchester that cost $150, so you know it 
was good; shot seven times. We started out, hung to- 
gether awhile and then separated. Along toward after- 
noon I heard a shot, then another, followed by five more. 
These shots were just kinder deliberate like, but I thought 
something must be up, so hurried over that way. Soon 
come in sight of him and called out, 'What's the matter?" 
He said, 'Come over,' and when I about reached him he 
said, 'Look a-thar.' I did so, and what do you suppose I 
saw? Seven grizzly bear; one for each shot. My pard 
said, 'I saw one bear and took a shot at him, and at the 
crack, six inore riz up and started for me. I just stood 
on this spot and put them down one after the other.' " 
This was so steep that we could only sit perfectly dumb, 
but we lay for h;m, and one night Ed baited him with a 
fair story, and after he had countered with a better, I 
told such a strong one that at its conclusion he was per- 
fectly silent for some few minutes, then he said, "Well, 
boys, it's time to go to bed," and we dispersed. 
Once while driving to El Reno, and not more than a mile 
outside of O. K. City, we saw a beautiful s'ght. The 
road went down a hill, the bottom of which ended in a 
draw leading tovrard the river, followed by a slight ascent, 
then turned at a right angle, and we had gone but a short 
distance when the crack of a rifle, followed by a second 
report, was heard, coming from the crest of the hill we 
had previously driven over. The next moment a fine 
buck deer showed running at full speed down the hill 
toward us. On sighting us almost directly in his route 
he stopped short, threw up his head and stood for a mo- 
ment motionless, the picture of grace, then suddenly 
ti^med toward the river and ran down the draw at top 
speed, sailing like a swallow over two wire fences bound- 
ing both sides of the road, and disappeared in the timber 
along the river, and with no regret on my part that he 
escaped harm. 
The amount of game shipped almost daily from O. K. 
City to Chiacgo and Kansas City was nearly beyond be- 
lief. There w^as no game law, and as the Atchison gave 
a rate of $3.75 per hundred pounds via express, there 
was every inducement with game so plentiful, for many to 
shoot and ship, and it was done. It was not an uncom- 
mon sight to see several tons of deer and quail go out on 
the morning train, and the Chicago commission firms 
worked the country for all there was in it. Ruhng quota- 
tions on quail were 65 to 80 cents per dozen ; deer in 
carcass, 7 to 8 cents per pound; wild turkey, about 10 
cents. It was not unusual to see a man drive into town 
with from three to seven deer on his wagon to sell at the 
local market, for most of the meat markets purchased 
game not only for the local trade, but also to ship, and all 
the hotels had quail and venison regularly every day on 
the bill of fare. Truly 'twas game plenty. 
The town was filled with a heterogeneous class of peo- 
ple, and gambling of all sorts ran wide open ; everything 
but wh skey could be had provided one could pay. Real 
estate boomers were more than plentiful, and business 
bore an air of prosperity. On the whole, though, the 
town was fairly quiet, owing, no doubt, to the presence 
of the company of U. S. Regulars stationed on the hill 
to the east ; otherwise, possibly affairs might have been 
more hilarious. Of course, there were some acts of laAV- 
lessness throughout the newly settled district. The tele- 
graph operator at Perry, north of town, of the A. T. & 
S. Fe, was shot one night, and a tra'n was also held up 
one evening some distance south of the city. A week or 
so later, parties supposed to have been concerned in this 
latter act, were captured near by and brought in irons to 
the town on their way north for trial. Now and then 
there was a hold-up, but on the whole the town was no 
more or less lawless than probably any Western town has 
been under similar circumstances. 
An election for city officials was held the latter part of 
November, and in th s my chum and myself participated. 
We were by this time legal voters, and took part at the 
request of a friend, one of the prominent citizens, for ap- 
pearance indicated a close election, and every voter was 
lined up for one side or the other. Native-born or natural- 
ized citizens of the United States and thirty days' resi- 
dence in the new Territory were the requisite qualifica- 
tions. There was no politics in this particular election, 
but the opposing factions were divided into two parties 
called the Seminoles and the Kickapoos. The former, the 
supposed Northern element ; the latter, the Southern. 
One of the two polling precincts was almost directly oppo- 
site our house, and I well recall my vote. Falling in litie 
with many other voters, as we stood waiting our turn to 
cast our ballot, a real wild Westerner strolled along the 
line and looked us over. "Well. Jim," he said to a man 
ahead, "I know you are all right." "You bet." was the 
reply. "And you, too," to the next fellow. "Here's a 
cuss I don't know," he sa'd, addressing me; "and how 
are you going to vote?" "All right. I guess," was my 
reply. "D d if I know about that ; show up your 
ticket." As I had sized him up to be a Kickapoo and had 
about reached the br(^ken pane of glass in the window 
through which we handed our ballots, I replied, "Don't 
worry about me." "But I want to see your ticket." By 
this time I managed to pass it in and made my escape, as 
he was too persistent to suit me. The result of the elec- 
t on showed the Kickapoos winners by a small margin, and 
the night was passed in whooping it up. 
The best description of a fair proportion of the popula- 
tion of those days, not psirticujarly of t^^ Qity. but of th? 
(Oct. 18, igo2. 
section, was aptly described by a resident in a remark to 
me one day: "Darn my skin, if they don't nearly all seent 
to be rags, boots and whiskers." 
But some of these same people were lay'ng the founda- 
tiori of what has since proved to be one of the best Terri- 
tories west of the Mississippi River and now entitled to 
have statehood conferred upon it. Good luck to that sec- 
tion, is my ardent wish. Some of the pleasantest 
memories of my life are connected with it, and I shall 
always recall my sojourn of four months or so there with 
the keenest pleasure. S. F. Rathbun. 
Seattie, Wash. 
Across New Brunswick on Snow- 
shoes. — V. 
The Act of Louis Beat. 
We shall best hasten the action of our story if we pause 
for yet a while by the way. In short, we must go back 
something like forty years or so. I have said that a 
couple of Indians visited us in our camp at Bathurst 
Lake. These Ind'ans had something to do with the suc- 
cess of our trip across the country. These Indians, more- 
over, were connected with other Indians. Their story 
ran back for forty years. 
Some forty years or so ago there was a well-known In- 
dian by the name of Louis Bear, a member of the large 
and influential Bear family, who have been chiefs among 
the Millicete Indians for some generations. Louis Bear 
lived somewhere in the settlements down the Tob que _ 
River. For the most part Louis was a good Indian and 
peaceable, and as he was trying to follow the white man's 
customs and to raise a little white man's garden truck it ' 
annoyed him very inuch to have his neighbor's horses 
break in and eat up his garden. One morning his anger 
overstepped his prudence. He took down his flintlock 
and with a certain amount of precision shot the daylight 
out of the leading offender among his neighbor's horses. 
Then Louis bethought himself that he had committed 
a crime against the wh'te inan's law. He did not stop to 
find out what that law would do to him. but, in brief, as 
one weary of sin, he fled as a bird to the mountains. 
These mountains aforesaid were precisely the range 
over which Adam proposed to take the Forest and 
Stkeam man in the hope that somewhere on the southern 
side of them we should find trace of Uncle Henry Braith- 
waite. As shall presently appear, it was a most lucky 
thing indeed for us that Louis Bear, long since gathered 
to his fathers, once upon a time shot his neighbor's horse 
and fled as a bird to the mountains. 
_ When Louis became an outlaw in that wilderness which 
lies between the heads of the Serpentine, the West 
Branch, the little South Branch and the North Pole 
Branch, which latter runs into the Miramichi, it was none 
the less necessary for Louis to do something for a liveli^ 
hood. In effect, he started out and built himself a line 
of traps, beginning somewhere between Sagamok Moun- 
tain and the heads of the Silver Brook, crossing the coun- 
try where Adam and I had jumped our big bull near the 
Klondike carnp, working around- the heads of the Serpen- 
tine streams, swinging over toward the headwaters of 
the Little South Branch of the Nip;siguit, swinging thence 
back toward the steep Serpentiiie hills, and thence work- 
ing east and a little north again into some country not 
even in this present time tnuch known to mortal man. 
Louis was quite safe in his selected wilderness. 
A line of sable traps, if well built, .will lastfi.ye to. eight 
years. Louis trapped on his line and lived out in the 
woods until_ people forgot about the horse. He then either 
cashed in his checks or got tired of trapping, and later his 
trapping line fell into the hands of Ambrose Bear, who 
used it for a wh le. It lay fallow for a time and then 
Joe Ellis, our present Indian friend, and Ambrose Lock- 
^\;ood trapped on it for a time, running the traps as occa- 
sion demanded. Then Joe Ellis took over John Moulton, 
his present partner, and these two were owners of the 
line for a long while. 
Any fool can chip a piece of bark off a tree, but in 
iNew Brun.swick it is only a fool who does ch'p that 
piece of bark without a definite and intelligible purpo.se. 
We now were possessed of the fact that, owing to the 
escape of dead and gone Louis Bear, there was running 
from somewhere near the Bathurst Chain, over across a 
part of the country which we wanted to traverse, a line of 
trees with chips cut out of the bark, some chips cut forty 
years ago, others twenty years, others two years', and some 
one year ago. In short, if we could once strike in on 
this old Indian line we would have a fair chance of getting 
somewhere, even if no one knew just exactly where. 
Hence we waited with considerable interest the return of 
Joe Ellis and John Moulton from their trapping line on 
Moose Brook. So far as the Governmental authorities 
are concerned, they do not trouble themselves over trap- 
ping lines or ginally constructed by Indians now defunct. 
The Indian does not ordinarily explain where his traps 
run. In point of fact, this old line had been running out 
into the New Brunswick wilderness for more than forty 
years, and no white man, so far as we could tell, had ever 
known anything about it. until by chance and under the 
soften ng influence of a stiff drink of gin, Joe Ellis com- 
municated a part of the news to his friend Charlie CremiUj 
Adam's partner. 
Woods Lore by the Way. 
Since Adain w^as away trying to catch his "blackcat" 
down at the caribou carcass, and since Joe and John 
were also away and uncertain of return as are all In- 
dians. Charlie and I kept camp. We practiced moose 
calling by ourselves and talked over a lot of things. Which 
reininds one, by the way. that Joe Ell.s had said he had 
heard a cow moose call the previous week, that is to say, 
in the second week of December — a fact of natural history 
new to every one hearing it, although Ellis is an old 
hunter and insists that he was not mistaken. He heard 
this moose in the heavy country not far from the Silver 
Brook divide. 
The calling of moose, as I learned froin d'fferent 
sources, does not go according to any hard and fast sys- 
tem. Adam says that he has never heard the loud call of 
the cow but once in all his experience. You may hear it 
very often at the sportsmen's shows, but not often in the 
vyoods, "A. ^vv roake$ 9U kinds of noises when she is; 
I 
