846 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
Il-Nov, I, 1902. 
South American revolution had invaded the land, and 
I presume it mdicated a severe engagement with the blue- 
wings. 
The bear crop in the "Gazoo Delta" is said to be abun- 
dant this season, and it has been bruited about in the 
papers that President Roosevelt would come down as a 
guest of Governor Longino, to engage in a bear hunt un- 
der the guidance of R. E. Bobo, the king of bear hunters. 
It now seems pi^obable, however, that the President will 
be detained in the North, after larger game. 
Coahoma. 
Gigfantk Grasshoppets* 
Apropos of Mr. Sprague's interesting contribution to 
the verj' rich (and unworked) field of translators' blun- 
ders, there is a curious one in a French version of one 
of J. F. Cooper's novels. The author wrote that a certain 
personage rode up to the house, dismounted from his car- 
riage, and "hitched his horse to a locust." "Locust" here, 
of course, refers to a species of tree. The Frenchman's 
dictionarjr doubtless gave only "sauterelle" as an equiva- 
lent, a word applied both to the common grasshopper and 
the migrating locust. He translated: "II attacha son 
eheval a une sauterelle" (he hitched his horse to a grass- 
hopper), but was apparently dissatisfied. It probably 
struck him that the reader would be mystified, so he intro- 
duced a footnote at the bottom of the page, as follows : 
"Dans les Estats-Unis les sauterelles atteignent parfois 
des dimensions enormes, incroyables. Quand on en trouve 
un specimen de taille gigantesque, on Tempaille en y 
ajoutant des poids de plomb pour assurer la solidite. La 
bete est placee devant la porte exterieure, et Ton s'cn 
sert pour attacher les chevaux." 
"In the United States grasshoppers occasionally grow to 
enormous, incredible size. When a particularly gigantic 
specimen is met Avith, it is customary to stuff it, weighmg 
it down with lead for greater solidity. The animal is 
placed in front of the outside door and used for hitching 
horses." — New York Times. 
Owl on Ship 750 Miles from Land. 
Honolulu, Hawaii, Oct. 15, via San Francisco, Cal.— 
An interesting instance of a land bird being picked up ai 
.sea was reported by the steamer Tampico, which arrived 
from Seattle last week. When in longitude 137 west and 
latitlrde 60 north, the officers of the vessel were surprised 
in see a bird alight on the deck. It proved to be an owl, 
standing about a foot in height. The bird was then 750 
miles from land and was exhausted. It soon revived, and 
has since been kept in a cage. 
The Tampico was not the first boat the bird is said to 
have visited in midocean. The crew of the barkentine S. 
G. Wilder, which arrived in this port recently, from San 
Francisco, recognized the bird as the same one. that had 
alighted aboard their vessel fully two weeks before the 
tampico was visited. 
At the time the bird stopped on the Wilder they were 
about five hundred miles southwest from San Francisco 
and fully fifteen degrees further south than the pomt 
w here the bird boarded the Tampico.— New York Herald. 
Chained to Business/' 
The Desk Slave's Song. 
O THIS is the song of the man who's chained 
All day to the roll-top desk; 
Wlio, sweltering over a type machine, 
Assumeth a shape grotesque. 
The breeze and the sunshine are ndt for him. 
The sky is a mere hearsay; 
He sits and he grinds 'mid the rustling sheets 
Through all of the dull, dull day. 
He thinks of the days when his hands were bard, 
His arms like the best of steel; 
He thinks -bf the days when his lithe limbs made 
Good time on a racing wheel; 
He thinks of the days when he held his own 
In the harvesting of grain— 
TTien smiles at the thought that a croquet game 
Can give him a next-day pain. 
He sighs to remember the mighty brawn 
He showed on the college track; 
He thinks of the day when he played baseball. 
And wishes those days were back; 
He thinks of himself in a football suit 
Well padded and picturesque, 
Then weeps o'er recalling the flabby form 
That's chained to the roll-top desk. 
(Jh, man in the field with the hoe or plow, 
O man with the ditching spade! 
Yearn not for the "easy white-handed job" 
Instead of your sturdy trade; 
Tliere's money sometimes in the office grind — 
There's life in the work you do! 
You are fanned and warmed by the breeze and sun 
And arched by a roof of blue. 
Your food is the food of a hungry man, 
Your sleep like the dead at night; 
Your muscles are firm and your heart is good, 
Your cause is the cause of right; 
We slaves of the desk would renounce our hope 
Of wealth or a "raise" in pay 
If we could but feel as we used to feel 
Back there in the "husky" days. 
— S. W. Gillilan, in Los Angeles Herald. 
A good story of a school inspector's recent visit to a 
smalf German village is related in a Berlin paper to 
the London Daily Mail. Requesting the mayor to ac- 
company him, the inspector heard the latter mutter: 
"I should like to know why that ass has come so soon 
ao-ain." Arrived at the first school he began to examine 
the pupils in punctuation, but was told by the mayor, 
"We don't trouble about commas and such like." The 
inspector merely told one of the boys to write on the 
blackboard: "The mayor of Ritzelbuttel says the in- 
spector is an ass." Now," he added, "put a comma 
after 'Ritzelbuttel' and another after 'inspector.' " The 
boy did so. The mayor is believed to have changed his 
opinion as to the value of commas. 
§^nie §dg nnd §mu 
— ^ — 
Proprietors of shooting resorts will find it profitable to advertise 
them in Forest and Streau. 
Across New Brunswick on Snow- 
shoes. — VIL 
Christmas Camp. 
All the way on our long trail from the Bathurst 
lakes south into the Miramichi country we had been 
continuall}'^ in game country, except when close to 
the lumber camps. On the height of land h-om which 
we had recently descended, there was any quantity of 
moose and caribou sign. When we stopped for lunch 
on top of the big hill, we built our fire directly on 
the trail of a big bull moose which we had started as 
we had climbed the slope. On our way down the south- 
east side of this same hill we crossed several moose 
trails, one of a bunch of three, among whxh we saw 
one big bull trail. On the last side hill which we 
crossed before we came out into this little half-moon 
lake, we saw the workings of what seemed a good-sized 
herd of caribou. We surely were in the w'lderness and 
surely Ihal wilderness held game. Wben al last we had 
crossed the little lake, following our snovvshoe trail 
back to its origin, we saw the trail of a big bull moose 
and the tiny tracks of a couple of sable, both directly 
in what might have been called Henry Braithwaitc's 
front ;>'ard. 
For it was Braithwaitc's northernmost cabin which we 
had now discovered — a little lean-to camp extended on 
its sides and front with square upright slabs, which 
formed a wind break for the fire place and a chimney 
to carry out the smoke. Henry had. not cleaned out 
the cabin of its snow, or, at least, it was half full when 
we got there. We shoveled it out, took off the cnim- 
ne;.' cover of pine boughs, and at once fell to work 
cutting wood, for, of course, in this sort of camp, it 
is necessary to keep a fire all night. It was now nearly 
dark and the snow was sifting down very steadily. We 
had no meat left and not very much tea or sugar, though 
we still had a small box of biscuits along with us. 
Under the circumstances we held a sudden and earnest 
council of war. 
•T'll tell you what I'll do," said Charlie, "I'll just 
take a bite to eat and then light out as fast as I can on 
Henry's trail. He must have a camp somewhere not 
more than six or eight miles from here down the trail. 
We don't know where his trail is after it leaves the 
lake, and if we wait until to-morrow perhaps we could 
not follow the snowshoe track. I think I can follow 
it to-night if the snow stops and the mo<5n conies up, 
and if I catch Henry then we'll learn about the country 
below here and we'll be all right. If I don't catch 
him, we may some of us get pretty hungry before long." 
Investigations showed us that all the supplies in this 
shack consisted of a half bottle of molasses and about 
a pint or so of beans. Flenry told us later he had not 
been at the camp for a little over three years, and only 
came up to see if he could get any trace of us^ — a most 
fortunate thing as it turned out. We all hated to see 
Charlie start out on so uncertain a trip at that time of 
day, after spending so many hours in he toboggan 
shafts, but as he seemed the one most apt to make a 
fast trip on the shoes, we turned him loose, and he 
went across the lake at a gait which warranted the 
wisdom of our selection. Then the rest of us went on 
preparing for our night in camp. We spent the night 
dozing as best we might, though much crowded in the 
little shack, which was only built for two persons. Our 
fire was built against back logs, which we leaned against 
the pine slabs of the wall. Once in a while the slabs 
would take fire, in which case we would pelt the fire 
with snow balls until it went out. On the whole, we 
made it out very comfortably that night. , 
Puzzling Moose Trail. 
On the next morning, Dec. 24, we saw by contrast 
how fortunate we had been in the weather for our trip 
across the unknown part of the trail. Snow continued 
to fall, and it grew so soft and wet that presently it 
degenerated into a drizzling rain. Joe Ellis and Jack 
Moore went back toward the Serpentine to fix up some 
traps, and they carried with them the injunction to kill 
some meat if they possibly could, neither of them having 
as yet killed to the limit of his license. On our part, 
Adam and I took up the big bull trail which crossed 
in front of the cabin door, and if there ever was a bull 
moose more ardently pursued than that one, then surely 
he was in danger. We followed the trail for some three 
miles, its general course being toward the north and 
northeast, leading toward the West Branch. It was a 
most puzzling sort of trail, and at last it received addi- 
tions until we were sure we were following not less 
than three moose, one of them a big bull. Then, pres- 
ently, the trail seemed to turn and come back, the ani- 
mals doubling on their back track. We thought we 
found horn sign of the big bull, and then again he 
would go through places where it seemed impossible 
for a fuU-antlered bull to pass. We figured that this 
bull was a traveler and was not yarding in that vicinity. 
Satisfied at last that he had taken the back track, we 
ourselves started back, and at last gave up the trail in 
the maze of tracks which went round and round about 
in the soft snow. The rain now began to come down 
pretty steadily, and the snow became so soft that it 
oi?ered the worst snowshoeing one ever saw in all his 
life. The shoes packed full and the filling bagged and 
ice formed in cakes under the foot. We saw we could 
not travel, and at noon we made for the camp, both of 
us wetted through and through. 
Discovery of Henry, 
As we came down the hill toward the shack we saw 
smoke arising and knew that Charlie, plucky boy, had 
come back up the trail, which meant that he had some 
sort of news. It was, indeed, very good news. He had 
been able to follow the snowiboe trail, and not more 
than an hour after dark struck Henry, who was lying 
asleep in his next camp, that on Logan Lake, six miles 
below Moon Lake, where we now were. Henry gave 
him a square meal and told him that the best thing he 
could do was to come back and get the rest of us. 
Henry said that he had promised to be at his home camp 
for Christmas, and the home camp was twenty miles be- 
low. He had killed a caribou the day before and said 
he would leave a part of the meat on the trail for us 
below Logan Lake. He said if we started out early in 
the morning we ought to make his home camp on the 
Little Southwest Lake some time before midnight of 
Christmas eve. Then we could have Christmas din- 
ner together the next day. Henry was accompanied 
by his son-in-law Albert, and these two had said good- 
by to Charlie that morning and had started down their 
trail south, while he came back to get us. 
Christmas Eve. 
So far, very well, and we w'ere anxious enough to get 
down to Henry's place, for we were all hungry and 
wanted a square meal the worst way in the world. 
Charlie had not stopped to hunt. Adam and I had 
been unable to land our game, and even lucky Jack, 
who had come back with Joe early in the afternoon, also 
had to report a blank, although he and Joe had jumped 
four moose out of a herd, one of them a big bull. These 
details will show that it is not always easy to get moose 
on a snowshoe trip, no matter how abundant they may 
be. We had good hunters with us, but we had all done 
our best that day, and had not been able to get hide nor 
hair. We held another council. The rain was now fall- 
ing steadily, and we knew perfectly well that we could 
not drag the heavily loaded sleds down to Henry's next 
camp, for part of the trail, CharHe said, was over pretty 
hcavj'^ grades. We resolved to spend Christmas eve 
where we were, in the hope that there might come a 
change in the weather, which would make sledding prac- 
ticable. The snow was going very fast, and any snow- 
shoer or tobogganer knows what it is to trek over this 
kind of footing on snowshoes. At this time Jack Moore 
and Joe Ellis wanted to leave^us and go back over the 
divide trail to Bathurst camp, leaving Adam, Charlie 
and myself to complete the tramp southeast down the 
Miramichi country to the railroad, to come out thus in 
an entirely different part of the Province from that 
where we had first gone in. Elhs said that he had 268 
traps, all dead falls, between the Serpentine and the 
northern end of his trapping line, and he was wiUing 
enough to have Jack go^along with him and help him 
set up. (We later learned that when Jack got back to- 
Bathurst Lake he caught a black cat and two mink m 
the traps which Adam and I had visited on the Nipisi- 
guit River.) 
We passed Christmas eve, all five of us, huddled up in 
the little shack, which was not large enough to allow us 
all to lie down at once. For fear of burning our blankets 
we did not cover up fully, but depended upon the fire. 
It was a dolesome sort of Christmas eVe, and on Christ- 
mas morning there was not a man of us who had any- 
thing in his stockings but feet. Santa Claus passed us 
by. Our Christmas breakfast was composed of what 
the boys called "bean swagan," made up of biscuits, 
beans and water boiled together. It was good. 
Tailoring in the Woods. 
Now, we came to say good-by to plucky Jack Moore, 
for whom I had conceived a strong affection, for a 
quieter or more manly boy I never saw. Just to show 
Jack there was no coldness, I told him that I wanted to 
make him a Christmas present of a suit of clothes, to 
be delivered at Fredericton some time later. 
"All right," said Jack— he always said "all right" to 
everything — so we started in to measure him, Charlie 
and I acting as official measurers. We found we had no 
tape line, and also discovered that Jack had no recorded 
measurements of his dimensions in any tailor shop at 
Fredericton. This situation might seem to offer diffi- 
cultes, but not so to the inventive woodsman. In a mo- 
ment or so Charlie fished out of his pack a long piece 
of twine string such as comes useful around camp. We 
then started in and measured Jack, tying a knot for 
every measurement. Knot No. i meant around the 
chest, No. 2 up and down along the back. No. 3 across 
the shoulders. No. 4 midships. No. 5 along his arm, etc. 
We went on in this way until we had a string full of 
knots, from which we thought the tailor could figure out 
a coat, waistcoat and trousers for Jack, all these meas- 
urements being recorded by mj'self on a piece of birch 
bark in due sequence. It happened that these knots ran 
down pretty near to the end of the string. Not long 
after that Adam, who chanced to need a string for some- 
thing about his sled, cut off a section of our nieasuring 
string, and we never could tell whether he cut it off the 
front end or the hind end of the string, I presume this 
may, perhaps, make some difference with the proportions 
of Jack's suit of clothes, but the Fredericton tailor, to 
whom I delivered the specifications, said he would do 
the best he could, although I must admit that he looked 
grieved. I have not heard yet how the suit of clothes 
came out, although I have a sort of scientific interest 
in the matter, and hope to be advised at a later date. 
We had our wish, the weather had turned out a bit 
colder by the morning of Christmas day. At half-past 
eight the sun was not yet up, and there was a soft, gray 
light illuminating the woods. The boys wanted a photo- 
graph of this camp o£ Henry's, which we had christened 
"Christmas Camp," and I was lucky enough to get_ a 
very good one. Then we shook hands reluctantly with 
Jack and Joe, and so parted, nor have I seen these two 
good fellows since. 
Hard Sledding on Christmas Day, 
Adam, Charlie and I now hit the trail industriously, 
bound south along Henry's trapping line. We passed 
through an open hardwood and spruce_ country, the 
timber being small and hardly worth cutting. It was a 
good game country and we struck quite a little moose 
herd half-way over to the next camp, not to mention 
caribou tracks, which we had now seen so often that 
we paid no attention to them. The crust on the snow 
was better than it had been the day before, but was just 
