Aug. 2Z, igois.] 
before they were released they danced, yelped and "carried 
on" as though they would tear their kennels to pieces, 
"How did you train them?" Bob asked. "Car* an' kind- 
ness," answered Bowman. "Nary houn' on the ranch .has 
ever felt whiplash. Ef a dog won't do right I talk to him 
saine as you and me'd talk. Ef a'ter two or three talks 
he won't do right, I get rid of him." "Sell him, I sup- 
pose?" "No/' said Bowman, slowly, "I don't 'xac'ly sell 
none. You see I riz these hyar houn's an' sojiiehow I jest 
can't sell none. But th' neighbors 's glad to get sech as I 
can't make bar dogs of. I don't know what luck we'll 
have this trip, 'cos it's dry, scent won't lay an' dogs get 
all het up; but we're gwin over near the coast in the red- 
wood a-back of Usal, whar bars is plenty an' whar the 
fog kums sneakin' up the canyon 'bout two a'ternoons, an' 
lasts till ten, mornin's. Ef we don't shake one up thar 
I'm an Injun; but gettin' him depends on the dogs not 
chokin' out" 
"What on earth is 'choking out?'" 
"Wal, in hot weather, a'ter the dogs has treed a bar, 
sometimes they's so tuck'ed plumb out that a'ter bayin' 
him few times they leave him an' hunt water. We call 
that choked out. 'Course Mr. Bar moseys." 
The trail — it was a well trodden bridle path — ^led along 
the summit of the ridge through a park-like forest of 
oaks — tanbarks and white oaks, chiefly — ^with here and 
there a flowery glade; and these wild gardens were alive 
with does and fawns quietly feeding. They gave no heed 
to the dogs, horses and men, nor did the well-trained 
hounds betray the slightest interest in their movements. 
"The spike-bucks are jest as gentle," said Bowman. "For 
ten years no small deer 'been hunted on this hyar ranch 
'cept twice, and I 'rested them sneak hunters myself, an' 
drug 'em 'fore the jestice to Cahto. The one war a doc, 
an' he pled guilty an' war let off wit' $25 fine an' 'spences. 
T'other war a blue-jay I'yar from the Bay, an' he kep' 
'ceptin', objeckin', an' 'pealin' till he'd got ole Simpson, 
the jestice, bilin'. 'Gol-durn yer, I'll show yer who's a- 
runnin' this hyar cou't/ sez he. 'Judgment is ye pay $200 
fine fer killin' that doe ; $50 mo' fer 'tempt of the pusson of 
this hyar cou't ; 'spences of Mr. Bowman fer a-gettin' of ye 
hyar, $3.75 ; an' costs $27.40.' 'Yer can't do it,' sez Blue- 
jay. 'The statoo has done fix the max'mum penalty fer 
doe killin' at $50, an' ye ain't got no 'tempt 'thority, no- 
how,' sez he; 'I 'cept an' I 'peal!' 'Ef you's wishful fer 
ler argify them pints willi me pussonly,' sez Simpson, Til 
'jurn cou't hyar an' now,' sez he; an' you'll need "peal 
po'ful loud fer shuah 'fore I'll tar loose of ye! Jedgment 
Stan's, an' they ain't no 'peal.' They tied Blue-jay up in 
ole Simpson's hay barn till he paid an' the Gov'ner done 
hold a 'vestigation ; but us folks 'lected Simpson 'gen. 
There ain't been no doc hunters about this hyar ranch 
sense." 
The oak openings were succeeded by wild oat mesas, 
sloping away to the south and cut by numerous small 
wooded gulches, about which the deer were feeding liter- 
ally in droves. Bob attempted to keep count of them, but 
abandoned the attempt. Marin recalls, however, that he 
counted eleven in one band in a small burnt opening be- 
side the trail ; all spike-bucks save one, and he was a 
whopper and did not wait to be scrutinized. Toward 
noon the trail led them through a forest of mixed coni- 
fers, down an abrupt descent to the South Fork of Eel 
River. Across the ford in a clump of redwoods stood a 
cabin. "Whose is that, Mr. Bowman?" asked Bob. 
"Mine. Built her las' hoggin' time. Say, boys, mos' folks 
hyarbouts calls me 'Beaug.' 'Spose j'ou does?" — and 
Beaug it shall be to the end of the chapter. Mabin, 
[to be continued.] 
Iq the Wilds—A Memory. 
{Concluded from j>age 
The tired and happy men rolled themselves in their 
blankets that night and never wakened until the sun 
was peering over the treetops the next morning. A 
plunge in the cool waters of the lake and a glorious 
swim, was followed by breakfast, and when all things 
were made clean and tidy in camp, all hands made 
ready to go a-fishing. 
The sun hung like a great copper disk in a brassy 
sky, scorching everything with a fervid heat. Not a 
breath of air stirred the glassy surface of the water, 
and even the aspens forgot to tremble at their sad 
memories. No self-respecting fish could be expected 
to bite on a morning like this, and the fact was soon 
appreciated by all hands. Like "Br'er Rabbit," when 
he stopped to say "howdy" to the Tar Baby, "right 
thar they had drapped their merlasses jug," by not 
getting up before the sun on such a morning as this. 
The day was intolerably hot, with a breathless 
autumnal heat that was very trying, even in these 
cool shades, and all hands gave the day to indolent 
repose, grudgingly giving enough time and effort to 
preparing and eating a midday meal. 
Slowly the trying day dragged by, and an early sup- 
per was prepared and eaten, in order that the evening 
hours might be available for sport. Still not a ripple 
stirred the water, and the air was as hot and stifling 
as at midday. As soon as the sun was screened from 
the water by the trees on the western shore, all hands 
set to work. F. had looked out a favorable and likely 
spot on some rocks near camp, and preparing some 
strips of the belly of some of the captured fish for bait, 
was soon at work. The other three, with Rory at the 
oars, took the boat and began trolling. They had bet- 
ter spent the time admiring the beauties of nature, for 
not a bite did any one get, 
The useless efforts were discontinued, and all re- 
turned to camp, where pipes and merry stories passed 
the evening, and when the men went to bed it was with 
the understanding that they were to arise at the first 
approach of dawn, and do their fishing before break- 
fast, if conditions remained the same. 
Rory's voice aroused the camp as soon as objects 
were faintly visible under the brightening morning sky. 
He said he would remain in camp and prepare break- 
fast, while the others went out. T. said he preferred 
to take the oars. F. went to his rocks as on the 
previous evening. Soon after leaving shore Scribe 
hooked a fish, and after a sharp struggle landed a 
:welve-pound pike. Another five-pound one was landed 
by E., and that ended the biting. This was disappoint- 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
ihg, as several large fish were seen, as they darted from 
the shallows into deep water. 
The smaller fish was cleaned and fried for breakfast 
and the larger one was rolled in cool fern leaves and 
laid away in the shade for later manipulation. 
The sun climbed into the same brassy sky as on the 
previous day, without a cloud to obscure it, or a breath 
of wind to temper its rays. It looked as if a hot, dry 
terra was on, and that little sport could be expected. 
However, the party was getting enough to eat, and 
what more did they need? They had no means of dis- 
posing of more, and not one of the men would have 
countenanced wanton destruction, so everything was 
accepted philosophically^ and no grumbling was neard. 
Alter breakfast Scribe took his gun and started out 
to find some birch bark, and in an hour's tramp got 
what he wanted, and brought back six young grouse 
with it. He could have brought twenty, just as easily, 
but no more were needed. 
As noon approached, the pike was unrolled from the 
fern leaves and washed clean without opening. It was 
then rolled tightly in the birch bark, swathed in green 
grass and thickly coated with the best clay to be found. 
A large fire was built, at a distance from camp, and 
when this had burned down to a bed of glowing coals 
these were raked aside, the fish in its envelopes was 
placed in the hot ashes, and the coals drawn back un- 
til it was covered several inches deep with them. 
In forty niiuutes the fish was taken out, the outer 
coverings oi clay and grass removed, and was then 
placed upon the camp table in its bark envelope. When 
this was opened there lay the great fish, done to a 
turn and only needing some salt and butter to make 
it a dish fit for the palate of the most discriminating of 
good livers. 
Try this some day, gentlemen! If rightly done the 
memory will remain, even as it has remained with 
Scribe for thirty odd years. 
They all ate to satiety, and probably a little beyond, 
and then discussed the possibility of any one of them 
ever being hungry again, while the hot afternoon 
dragged by. There was not even an. insect to disturb 
the drowsy hours, and the insistent silence of the forest 
gripped the men, and held them in quiet contemplation. 
iNo one stirred till the shades of evening were ap- 
proaching, when they decided that very little supper was 
needed, and they would have the evening's fishing first. 
It was no use, conditions were unfavorable, and no 
one got a bite. 
The following day it was the same story, and after 
breakfast F. and Scribe started out to explore the sur- 
rounding country, taking a light lunch along and tell- 
ing Rory to have a grouse stew ready for use about 
four o'clock. Scribe took his gun and F. an ax, for, said 
he, "it's allers handy tu hev along, fer yu may want 
tu get yu some gum, or yu may want it ter kill a 
bar, an' yer allers ready an' loaded fer anythin' atween." 
All of which is good philosophy for the forest. 
They went to the little meadow at the head of the 
lake, and examined it for "sign," finding it all cut up 
with deer tracks. No larger animal was traced. A 
flock of grouse went whirring out of the grass, alight- 
ing in the nearby aspens, but they were not disturbed. 
The men then struck east, looking for higher ground, 
and after an hour's steady walking found no hills from 
which a view of the country could be had. 
The purpose F. had in view in taking the ax had 
long been apparent to his companion, as an occasional 
score upon the bark of a tree would serve as a guide 
on the back track, should such be necessary. 
At last they came to a bit of rising ground, and 
Scribe climbed a tall and commanding spruce that off- 
ered an_ easy ascent, owinc to a smaller tree having 
lodged its top in the other's lower branches. From 
the top of this tree a fair view was obtained of the 
surrounding forest. 
Away to the east, for miles and miles, lay the level 
forest. To the north the country fell away, to appear 
again in a distant line of blue forest. To the west 
and northwest lay the swamp and the higher country 
be3^ond it, which the party had traveled in reaching 
the place, dominated by the dark slopes of Red Moun- 
tain. South\yard, the land rose gradually, to distant 
forest clad hills, and about two miles away was seen 
the only nearby break in the solid forest. Bearings 
were taken for this opening, and after the descent of 
the tree by Scribe, the two struck out for it. After 
an hour's brisk walking the break appeared, and proved 
to be nothing more than a large meadow, partially 
overgrown with willows and small firs, interpersed with 
a few blueberry bushes. At some very remote period 
the place had been overflowed by the work of beavers, 
and through the center of the meadow still flowed the 
little stream which the animals had dammed and util- 
ized. The turf was all cut up with deer tracks, and 
several does and fawns were disturbed by the passage 
of the men. Grouse went thundering away on all sides, 
and a great porcupine was disturbed in a nap, as he 
sat with his nose curled beneath his breast on an old 
root in some willows, a curious looking object. 
Lunch was partaken of beside the little stream, in 
the shade of a clump of willows; pipes were lighted, 
and the country in which they found themselves was 
discussed. 
"This bit of country," said Scribe, after he had gotten 
his pipe to drawing properly, "seems to be an almost 
virgin forest. If you have noticed the fact, and no 
doubt you have, there is not a mark of man's presence 
in it, excepting where a couple of logs have been cut 
near our camp. That was probably done by the tim- 
ber lookers that you told me of, as the work seems to 
be just long enough done to coincide with the time of 
their visit. It is no country for bears, as there is no 
food for them. It is the same way with moose. There 
is no water in this direction excepting our lake, and 
that has no water plants in it for them to feed upon. 
Then see how tame the deer are, and the grouse and 
small animals. They will hardly get out of our way." 
"Wal," F. answered, as he leaned back against a 
support of springy willows, "I'd figgered it aout 'bout 
the same. I don't think any one cud a been here an' 
not left some marks, an' as yu say, I hain't seen nary 
148 
a track o' man *ceptin' the logs yu spoke on. An' I 
guess that accounts fur the size o' the fish, tew. There 
hain't many on 'em, seems 'ough, but they are all ol' 
sockers, what they is. It dus me good tu git intu a 
place that hain't ben tromped over by ever'body, an' 
if I don't catch another dummed fish I'll allers be glad 
I cum," 
"So will I," answered Scribe, "and the memory of 
this trip will be a joy to me as long as memory holds 
sway. If it were not so fearfully hot I would explore 
this country for miles around. It is a grand sensation 
to find oneself in a virgin forest, where no men ever 
come, and where all wild creatures are so little ac- 
quainted with man as to be practically unafraid. And 
I think much of this forest is virgin, as there is but 
little to draw even the red men into this solitude, ex- 
cepting the plenitude of deer, and I fancy this latter 
has been brought about, lately, by the retirement of 
the timid creatures from more luscious pastures, be- 
ing lured here by the peace which prevails." 
Just at this point F. straightened up and quietly 
pointing to a spot behind Scribe's back, who sat oppo- 
site to him, whispered, "Turn yer head slow an' look 
ahin' ye! By the nation, if that ain't the purtiest site 
I ewer seen." 
Scribe did as directed, and not fifty feet away saw 
a mother doe, flanked on either side by a soft-eyed 
spotted fawn, curiously gazing at the two men. The 
doe would stamp her dainty foot and then turn to 
her offspring with a reassuring touch of her nose to 
each; then advance a step or two and stamp and gaze 
again. 
"By gum, ain't they pooty!" whispered F. "It's the 
fust time I ever see a deer so clost." 
The men kept perfectly quiet, and the three beauties 
approached them gradually until within twenty feet, 
and then seemingly thinking that they were harmless 
objects, walked gracefully away, and soon disappeared 
behind the screening willows. 
The men arose and walked quietly away, so as not 
to disturb them, and started back to camp, shooting 
six grouse on their way. 
Rory had a grand potpie ready on time, heaped with 
feathery dumplings, and another grand feast followed 
in the course of the others that had been fattening all 
hands, since their arrival in this blessed land. 
After this dinner and supper in one, and a satisfying 
smoke, fishing was tried again, but with small suc- 
cess. 
F. had succeeded in capturing a frog, with which he 
retired to his favorite rocks, while the others went 
out in the boat. As the latter rowed down the lake 
they passed within a few feet of F., and as they did 
so he got a bite and struck with all the force of his 
pole. (It was not a rod!) It was soon evident that 
he was fast to a large fish, and a very lively one. He 
slipped in his eagerness, and landed hard on his back 
premises, losing his hat at the same time, which took 
advantage of the situation and promptly rolled into 
the lake. Just then an immense bass leaped into the 
air, and F. kept him coming by a tremendous sweep of 
his pole, landing the fish high and dry on the rocks 
and falling bodily on it. 
It was a ludicrous but effective performance, and 
grasping the great bass, whooping and yelling at the 
top of his voice, F. danced a war jig and shouted, 
"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop-e-e-e-ee! That's the way to 
ketch 'em! Get 'em started, an' keep 'em a-comin'! 
Whoop-e-e-e-e-ee!" 
Thus yelled the delighted man, oblivious to his bruises 
and his sinking hat, which was finally rescued by the 
boat's crew. The bass was a beauty, and was esti- 
mated to weigh anywhere from ten to fifteen pounds, by 
dift'erent members of the party. When placed upon the 
scales he dwindled a little, but still pulled down a plump 
nine pounds. 
This was the only fish caught that night, and F. was 
many times congratulated on his luck. 
The following day was to be the last of the outing, 
and all hands prayed for a change in the weather, as 
it was too apparent that no fish could be caught under 
the conditions then existing. Early dawn found all 
astir, but no change in the weather. T. caught one 
seven-pound pike, and Scribe a five-pound one, and that 
settled it. The forenoon was idled away in a game of 
cards, and the five-pound pike was baked in clay for the 
midday meal. The afternoon wore away in the same 
manner, and toward evening a slight coolness began 
to steal in, and finally a little breeze stirred the lake. 
A supper of fried grouse, hot biscuit and coffee was 
prepared and eaten early, and by the time supper was 
finished there was a good rufifling wind blowing. 
Scarcely had the boat got well started when T. had a 
fierce strike, and hooked and landed a ten-pound pike. 
At the same time more "whoops!" from F. announced 
that he was also bus}^ As the pike was hauled into 
the boat, F. was heard lamenting the loss of his fish, 
for which all hands were sorry. 
"Blast his picter," he shouted, "he was a wallopin' 
big pike, an' he's took my gear, hook, line an' sinker. 
I'll bet a cud o' terbacker he'd weigh mor'n twenty 
paounds." 
The boat had half circled the lake when Scribe's 
hook struck into something immovable, and remem- 
bering his first experience, he struck to make sure, 
and an immediate whirr of the reel told that he had 
a fish. Back and forth the great creature surged, tax- 
ing the skill of the angler to the utmost to keep a taut 
line with the single action reel. But no accident oc- 
curred, and after a stubborn fight the rod won the vic- 
tory. As he lay in the bottom of the boat glaring up 
at his captor, he was indeed a monster, On return to 
camp it was found to weigh a strong twenty-nine 
pounds. F. caught another one that weighed fifteen 
and this ended the sport. All members of the little 
party proclaimed themselves perfectly satisfied, and re- 
tired early so as to break camp before dawn. 
The breaking up of a happy camp is too sad a thing 
to dwell upon, and little more remains to be said, 
suffice it to say they all got back safely and parted with 
promises to go back together ."some time"; but, alas! 
that "some time" has not come yet, and never will. 
