29S 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
t April 0, 1964. 
within a few yards of the pool he was fishing. The 
amber water flowed windingly in and out among the 
thick alder bushes that hung and overshadowed it in 
many places; here the stream rippled over a shallow 
gravel bed, glinting and flashing in the sunlight, and 
then in a sweeping turn sank into a little coffee-colored 
pool. A fallen balsam spanned the brook, while be- 
yond was an open, grassy point, with a background of 
tall, fragrant tamarack, pine and balsam trees, whose 
sweet, spicy odors mingled strongly with other wood 
aromas. 
Under the former's overhanging stub was a dark 
secluded hole. Into this, after repeated efforts to dis- 
entangle from grasping bushes, Fred dropped his hook. 
"There's some in here, sure enough," he said, with 
an accompanied muttered exclamation of tried patience 
as an unseen twig caught the hook, which came up after 
a good deal of pulling and disturbance to the pool, 
minus the worm. "Well, here goes again," as another 
fresh bait was lowered carefully in. Befoie it had dis- 
appeared from sight the birch rod bent, the line grew 
taut, and Fred triumphantly swung out a glistening 
trout, whose olive mottled back and crimson spotted 
sides gladdened our hearts. 
"He's a beauty," I exclaimed, cutting a twig with a 
crotch to string him on, for we had no creel; "Try 
there again; you may get another." 
At the third or fourth attempt two more fish were 
landed and added to the first. Further along, we came 
on a number of shallow pools with shadowy retreats 
under the banks, but all the trout inhabiting them 
were too small or the ground was so wet and full of 
treacherous "rooty" holes that we were prevented from 
approaching the stream. However, we kept on, looking 
for another likely spot, listening to the calls of a flock 
of bluejays and the occasional rapping of a big pileated 
woodpecker on a hollow, resonant pine stump. 
Hearing the harsh cries of the former, reminded me 
of an incident that occurred some years back, when I 
was fishing with the Veteran on this same stream, only 
further down along its course, where a great many 
heavy, yielding pools existed, while the woods were 
especially wild and primeval. We were fishing a big 
pool, the Veteran ahead and I behind, walking along 
through the thick alder bushes that, as usual, bordered 
the bank, dropping in where an opening offered a 
favorable place to land the bright, voracious trout. 
All at once a sound broke the stillness; a wild, weird 
cry, that to my imaginative and youthful senses was 
almost hair-raising in its uncanny nature. "What's 
that?" I asked, clutching the Veteran's coat. He 
stopped and listened. "Sounds like a fox," was the 
answer, as again the long-drawn, high-keyed wail came 
to our ears. As at that tirne I was unacquainted with 
the strange vocal powers of these crafty wood denizens, 
I became fully convinced it was nothing more or less 
than a hungry panther, and was consequently seized 
with terror. Every moment I expected to see a creep- 
ing, yellow form and round, gleaming eyes coming up 
behind us, so as a result of these dilated fancies, I 
trod on the Veteran's heels af every step, and ran into 
him when he stopped to fish, in effort to keep as close 
as possible, for my eyes continually sought the rear. 
Finally he was forced to leave off fishing in order to 
save his heels from being unmercifully trampled upon, 
and of course he could take no comfort with me cling- 
ing fearfully to his coat half the time. Will I ever hear 
the last of that episode? To this day it is referred to 
With laughter and imitations for my special benefit; 
illustrations of how I endeavored not to lose sight of 
the Veteran. Since then I have heard, many times, the 
shrill, yelping howls, barks and wails of foxes far off 
in the dark, quiet woods at night, and also when in 
them during the day; but their first influence has been 
replaced bv a delightful pleasure, now experienced 
when listening to those wild forest sounds, unmarred, 
in their native element. 
The stream was too swift to fish where it curved 
around the grassy point, with the background of thick 
conifers, still occupied by the chattering, brilliant jays; 
so we pushed on for a short distance until we discov- 
ered another pool, not very large, to be true, but 
favoraljle in its appearance. 
While Fred put on a new bait and made a cautious 
approach within fishing distance, I continued on, walk- 
ing through the scented grass and brakes to look for 
the next best location. Several times I came on fresh 
"deer beds" that evidently had been in recent use, for 
the grass was flattened into round semi-circular mats, 
and appeared snug, inviting resting places for some 
graceful doe or thick-set watchful old buck, who 
usually picks out the safest and most comfortable re- 
treat. Surely the deer deserve all these small comforts, 
when one thinks of the hard, bitter winters some of 
them contrive to live through, followed by the summer 
tdrments of flies and ending with the hunting season. 
Here, however, I should stop, for yearly I am for- 
ttinate in enjoying that splendid sport, whose various 
pleasures, added to the bagging of a fine deer, are 
unlimited. 
"This makes the sixth," said Fred, as I came back 
to where he stood displaying a plump trout he had 
just landed from the pool. Two or three undersized 
ones were swung out after this from the same place, 
but were of course immediately returned again, and as 
hooking these little chaps did them no good, the angler 
wisely concluded to move on. From under a partly 
sunken log near the bank he succeeded in catching a 
cbuple more, lively and well conditioned, that readily 
jieized the bait as it drifted by their concealed nook. 
■ A little below, another fish ran out into the open 
sunlight, swallowed the worm, and was promptly 
precipitated into the air, to join his former companions 
that were fastened on the birch twig. 
' "It must be getting toward dinner time; so I'll go 
back and take these trout with me," I said, picking up 
the fish. . , . 
"Very well; I'm going to stay for a while longer, and 
perhaps I can get a few more," he returned. So, after 
giving his catch a dip in the water to freshen them, I 
struck back from the stream into the woods, where the 
walking was better, and soon reached the path that led 
to our camp. How delicious are the various odors that 
penetrate one's nostrils, for, besides their fragrance, 
the resinous smells of spruce, balsam, tamarack and 
pine are like a bracing, aromatic tonic when breathed 
into the lungs. Undoubtedly the wonderful health- 
giving purity and exhilaration of Adirondack air is due 
to the quantity of oxygen generated by the vegetable 
growth that gives rise to the healing vitality and life 
of the atmosphere. 
Half way on the trail to camp there came to my ears 
a yell, or, rather, a call — the first describes it best — that 
made me jump before I realized it was only Rob an- 
nouncing the near approach of dinner; so I hurried on, 
and a couple of minutes later deposited the morning's 
catch on the cook table beside the fire. 
"The 'murphies' are all ready," said Rob, handing 
me the frying-pan filled with round, white slices of po- 
tatoes and a big lump of pork. "Smoke is mighty 
strong, so you'd better let me cook 'em," he con- 
tinued; but I refused, for I always enjoyed a taste of 
outdoor cooking, despite the smarting, eye-watering 
process one is compelled to undergo. While the trout 
were being prepared by skilled fingers, I dodged 
around the fire, trying to escape the pungent smoke, 
and twice nearly upsetting potatoes and all into the 
dirt. 
"Tough on yer eyes,' isnt' it?" asked Rob, as he set 
the steaming coffee pot and a plate of crisp toast on the 
table. "Now, we're all ready, I guess; come, get ter 
eatin' while things are red hot, and I'll have those 
trout fried before you can turn 'round," 
Fred put in a timely appearance at this moment with 
five more fish, making a total of fourteen for his morn- 
ing's catch. 
Soon we were all seated, the flickering sunlight fall- 
ing across the table, and Rob's culinary handicraft set 
before us. Did we enjoy and relish that meal, flav- 
ored with a pungent delicious taste of outdoor cooking, 
eaten with sound healthful appetites and the murmur 
of the brook in our ears? It is a question to be an- 
swered by those who have experienced these same 
pleasures and blessings the woods offer us. 
After dinner was over and the wood artist had seated 
herself to put the finishing touches to the painting of 
the stream while Fred and the little lady enjoyed the 
springy, fragrant luxury of the open camp, I sat by 
the fire toasting my damp shoes, leaning back to look 
up at a mighty pine shooting high in soft lines against 
the sky. What a massive, wonderful structure, coated 
with rugged bark, the heavy, twisted branches reach- 
ing out like powerful arms to feel and vibrate with 
winds and storms; to wave and shake dark, feathery 
tassels in the breeze until they sigh and murmur to 
those who listen. 
Two hours later we were driving homeward, the 
mellow light of the setting sun shedding a soft glow 
down the road and piercing the woods with hazy, slant- 
ing sunbeamed rays. At every "thank you ma'am" 
going up the hills, patient Flora would turn reproach- 
ful glances on the wagonload, and once as she stopped 
to rest, a big red doe, followed by a spotted fawn, 
crossed the road with a leaping bound, and two white 
flags waved defiantly as they disappeared. When we 
came to the place where they had entered the woods, there 
they both stood but a short distance away in a sloping 
green hollow. The old doe was browsing, and after one 
inquiring look at the familiar apparition of a. horse 
and wagon, went on feeding unconcernedly, switching 
flies with her tail, while the fawn gazed intently m 
our direction until we finally drove on, leaving them 
still there. 
That night as I stood looking out an open window 
on the quiet dark-shadowed lake, and the darker out- 
lines of the surrounding hills and mountains, the 
sweet, mellow tones of an accordeon floated across the 
water, and as the last note of a famiUar air died away, 
the weird, lonely hooting of an owl came clearly from 
the silent shore— a good-night and pleasant dreams 
from a wilderness voice. Camilla. 
Tottgh and Tender. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
1 have read in your issue of April 2 the very pertinent 
editorial comments upon the experiences of the Hubbard 
(Outing) party in Labrador, and the death of Mr. Hub- 
bard by starvation in October. These deprecate the 
thoughtless undertakings of inexperienced and unequipped 
explorers in a wilderness country. October was not a 
month to starve in. By way of contrast between the 
taught and untaught I beg to refer your readers to the 
sketch of Dr. Robert Bell, which was printed by the 
Forest and Stream in the fall of 1900, entitled, "One 
of Canada's Explorers," and more particularly to the 
exploit of Factor McLean, of the Hudson Bay Company, 
who is on record as having made the trip from Northwest 
River in Labrador to Winnipeg on snowshoes, and liv- 
ing off the country— a distance of 2,500 miles, requiring 
fourteen weeks' time. Such a feat is marvelous, and 
beyond comprehension. McLean had but a single attend- 
ant, both carrying a kit and sleeping bags, and subsisting 
for the most part upon what they trapped and shot. 
Sportsmen who make short trips into the woods with 
well-equipped and experienced guides have srnall concep- 
tion of the woodcraft necessary to accomplish an itin- 
erary like that recorded of Dr. Bell. 
When I first heard of Leonidas Hubbard's death I 
would not credit the report; for I had been a good deal 
on Hudson Bay trails, and traveled with the brigades 
several times (in mid-summer), and learned their sys- 
tematic ways; and I felt that if the Hubbard party had 
outfitted at Northwest River station, which I have visited 
personally, he would have been set straight and given a 
proper send-off. The temerity, not to say innocence, of 
the unsophisticated is surely marvelous to contemplate. 
How often I have asserted in my writings that not a 
considerable fraction of those who write knowingly of 
sport in the woods could take care of themselves a week 
if left to their own resources. They would get lost in a 
ten-acre wood lot. Even the Nordenskold arctic explor- 
ing party perished of starvation in their tents on the Lena 
River in Siberia because they did not think to try for 
the fish which were beneath them, or know how to catch 
them if they did. Charles Hallock. 
All communications for Forest and Stream must be 
directed to Forest and Stream Pub. Co., New York, to 
receive attention. We have no other office. 
- — — 
Colorado Buffalo. 
Denver, Col., March 30— Editor Forest and Stream: 
In your editorial under "Colorado's Last Buffalo" in 
your issue of March 26, you refer to a press despatch of 
March 20, announcing the killing in Colorado of the last 
of the Lost Park herd of buffalo, and you apparently 
locate the Lost Park in the northwest part of Colorado, 
whereas the Lost Park in which these buffalo were is 
in central Colorado in Chaffee county. 
I did not see the press despatch to which you refer, 
and doubt somewhat the truth of its statement, for the 
reason that from the best information I have, some per- 
sons residing in Buena Vista, Colorado, killed two bulls, 
one cow and one calf, in February, 1897, which were 
understood to be the last of the Lost Park herd. This 
killing was done to procure specimens, the skeletons and 
hides only being saved, the meat having been left in the 
field. 
It may be a matter of interest to you to know how 
this work of vandalism could be accomplished and go 
unpunished, as has been the case thus far. It appears 
that the killing was done very quietly and the hides and 
skeletons were kept concealed, so that the game com- 
missioner could find no sufficient evidence of the act 
/ or identification of the perpetrators until 1901. In that 
year, by some very skillful detective work, he and one 
of his deputies were introduced to the perpetrators as 
taxidermists desiring to purchase the hides and skeletons, 
and criminal informations were filed against the two 
Bartletts and some other parties who assisted them in 
the killing. 
There were two different trials of the perpetrators, in 
which the evidence was absolutely conclusive of their 
guilt, but in the first case the court held that the prose- 
cution was under the game law of 1893, and that it had 
been repealed by subsequent laws. In the second case, 
the court instructed the jury that if the evidence showed 
the defeiidarlts to have been in possession of the hides 
and skeletons more than three years prior to the com- 
mencement of the prosecution they must be found "not 
guilty." The evidence did so show; the jury returned 
the verdict of "not guilty," and the defendants were dis- 
charged. 
Upon being discharged the defendants asked an order 
for the returiT of the hides and skeletons, which the court 
refused to grant, but ordered the sheriff to retain their 
custody until further order of the court. Soon there- 
after the State Game Commissioner commenced a replevin 
suit for the' hides and skeletons. This suit hung fire for 
some time, jand' for reasons of which I am not fully ad- 
vised, the case was dismissed. 
On October 24, 1903, the perpetrators of the act began 
a replevin suit against the sheriff in whose custody the 
property was, and that suit is now pending in the Dis- 
trict Court of Lake county, and at the request of the 
present game commissioner, I have promised to look after 
it and try to see that the perpetrators of the outrage, 
although they have so far escaped punishment, shall not 
be able to_ get away with the proceeds of the crime. Not- 
withstanding the complications above recited I anticipate 
no serious difficulty in preventing the undesirable result 
which I have indicated. D. C. Beaman. 
Bears as Game Destroyers. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I have been _ interested in the discussion the past few 
weeks concerning bears as game destroyers. In March 
24 issue Wm. J. Long expresses the hope that readers 
will send in their "observations" along this line. When 
disputed questions like this arise, we find much of the 
discussion consists of only an expression of sentiment 
and opinion, rather than that of actual personal observa- 
tion. I have referred on previous occasions to the most 
unaccountable way in which different persons of equal 
experience and intelligence, and in the same locality, will 
arrive at conclusions so widely different as to admit of 
no compromise; and yet when it comes to an analysis 
of their actual observations they may be very similar; 
thus we must conclude that a prevailing sentiment does 
sometimes influence persons in arriving at conclusions 
as a result of observation. 
For instance; my sentiments are strongly in favor of 
the bear: of not only prohibiting a bounty on him, but 
protecting him, if necessary for his existence. My senti- 
ments are, that of all our North American animals the 
bear is the most interesting, and the most to be desired 
from the standpoint of the hunter, either in the sport 
connected with his capture or the trophy which he fur- 
nishes; and I would go further and pay more to hunt 
where there were plenty of bear, with even a possibility 
of killing one, than for a double certainty of killing any 
other game where no bear were to be found. Those are 
my sentiments. 
My opinion, based on observation, is that they are not 
game destroyers, and it is quite possible that my opinion 
may, to some extent, be the result of sentiment. That 
they are "bad medicine" on hogs and sheep almost any- 
one will admit, but that is not the question at issue. 
Perhaps being unduly influenced by sentiment, when I 
have found the remains of a young game animal which 
has been eaten by bears, unless I can find evidences to 
the contrary, I conclude at once that it has died from 
some natural cause, and after decomposition began a bear 
had found it, owing to the stench, which will attract a 
bear from a long distance; for they eat carrion as read- 
ily as freshly killed meat. 
A person who has only a feeling of hostility for the 
bear, and believes him to be a destroyer of game, would 
on the same occasion report that he had found where a 
bear had killed and eaten the young of some animal; of 
course believing it to be a fact. The observations being 
the same, conclusions are largely the result of sentiment. 
I have found where bear were feeding on the carcasses 
of elk, and, in nearly every instance, have learned through 
investigation that the elk, or presumably the same ones, 
had been wounded by hunters and escaped; probably 
being found by the bears only after the stench fran the 
