60^ 
FOREST. AND ■ STREAM. 
{June iB, 1904. 
rich. The door opened and a gray-haired giant made his 
appearance with the good old salutation, "Greet thee God, 
Herr." 
"Well, Heinrich, did you get a buck to bring in from 
my friend?" 
"Yes, sir, I had to carry it to the crossroads to Z." 
I was struggling to get air into my lungs, 
"to where?" 
"To the crossroad at Z., just where the Prussian boun- 
dary line is. If this friend of yours did not have the per- 
mit from you I should surely have taken him for a 
poacher." 
I was trying hard to say something, but something 
seemed to choke me. 
"Did he say anything else?" 
"Yes, he said he' had ordered his wagon to be there, and 
I should go to the castle and report. He also gave me a 
fine cigar, such a one I never smoked for a long time." 
By this time I was ready to burst from anger ; only the 
presence of Mrs. von W. kept me from exploding. 
"Did he perhaps give you a twenty-mark piece also ?" 
"Ho ! Nobody is such a fool Howadays. Ha ! ha ! hi 
I was simply annihilated, and for the next hour I did 
not know whether I was the victim of a joke or not. 
But old Heinrich's tale was only too true. I had de- 
livered the prize buck directly to the poacher, and the man 
whom I was wishing to catch had caught me and my 
quarry. Suffice to say I did not hunt around there for the 
next five years. Translated by C. F. B. 
D ANBURY, Conn. 
A Narrow Escape. 
{Continued from page 48S.) 
Life in the "Woods —X. 
One morning when Louis, Bill, and myself had first 
separated, Louis, in jumping over a little brook, fell and 
discharged his gun, but fortunately not hurting himself 
or anyone else. This accident was the subject of conver- 
sation that evening, and led to the account of the .shoot- 
ing of a friend of ours a few years previous. As an ex- 
hibition of what a loving woman can do, and what a 
determined, cool-headed man can endure, and as a warn- 
ing to careless hunters, it is invaluable. Told in the lan- 
guage of the victim, L. M. Wyatt, of Fond du Lac, Wis., 
it is as follows : 
"For many years my wife and I had gathered up our 
camping paraphernalia while the glorious October days 
were young and hied away to the great ' lone_ land of the 
North, our earlier expeditions usually terminating near 
some habitation. With each returning season came that 
longing of the sportsman to see what was jtist a little 
further away — just a little wilder and hence more ro- 
mantic. Li this way we had come to look on the 
furthest point that could be reached as the one to look 
for, and the one most satisfactory. We had for many 
years followed the lumbermen and had pitched our tents 
near a crew of loggers. This gave a base of supplies and 
connection with the outside world, slow as it was, for 
often we were Icrcated where it took four days to make 
the round trip. In this way we were free from the bands 
of hunters that infested the grounds adjacent to the more 
acceptable lines of travel. These locations seemed to 
afford all that could be desired for a satisfactory outing, 
and we became so interested in our fall camping season 
that we should have counted the year lost without the 
usual October camp. These conditions found us in the 
year 1882 located 35 miles from the nearest settlement, 
through a wilderness for the entire distance broken only 
by a solitary logging camp 26 miles away. We had a 
camp of log drivers near-by and this crew afforded us 
all the company desired, while the supply teams that fur- 
nished them gave us satisfactory communication. On 
November 6 we had exhausted our allotted time, had our 
outfit partly packed, and expected to leave the woods in 
a day or two. We had gathered an abundant supply of 
trophies, and had enjoyed the beautiful days and glisten- 
ing waters of those virgin woods. I had a single saddle 
of venison hanging about a mile and a half from camp 
that I was to take out to the supply road so as to take it 
aboard when the- teamster passed. I left camp after din- 
ner to do so, and when near the spot two fine deer broke 
cover near me and started away through the open woods. 
We already had plenty, but the clear, open glade offered 
"such a shot" that the rifle came to its place as a natural 
sequence to a month's tramping and shooting. After the 
shot I was almost wishing it had failed. I stepped over 
to look at results and found the telltale drops on the 
leaves indicating a dead shot. I followed along to a 
thicket, and there the deer lay stretched out, as though 
it had fallen from the clouds. 
"I hung the deer up and prepared to dress it, when, as 
I was standing by, a rifle shot rang out, and I found my- 
self turned half around and one shoulder against a tree I 
stood near. I found that my right foot was turned half 
around and that my right leg was shattered at the hip 
joint, the shot striking the bone near the joint. \ called 
out, but secured no response, and no one was in sight. 
The location was quite thickly covered with underbrush 
among the pines. I realized that someone had mistaken 
me for a deer and had fired, and, finding out the error, 
had gone, away and left me to my fate. There was no one 
near to hear any calls or to render any assistance. It 
was a cloudy November day, and the mist that had filled 
the timber gradually settled down, and toward , night a 
cold rain set in. I had matches, hatchet, packing strap 
and cord, and with what strength I could command 
undertook to fix up the disabled leg. I reached out near 
me and cut a sapling, laid it against my body and then 
along the leg. I then cut two suitable sticks for crutches, 
and with the packing strap made an effort to use them as 
crutches, iDut I could not manage the disabled leg. The 
shot passed close to the main artery, missing it by half 
an inch. The wound was so close to the body there was 
no way to stop the flow of blood only partially. 
My wife, of course, could not know what had hap- 
pened until I failed to return. Then the courage and 
heroism of woman overcame fears, and her timely efforts 
saved my life. The loggers' camp, about three-fourths 
of a mile away, had no trail directly to it from our tents, 
and the passage was one to tax a veteran when shrouded 
in the gloom of a pine woods night. With the aid of 
her companion, a white setter dog, she found her way to 
the camp, roused up the men, and a night search was 
instituted. No one knew the direction I had taken, hence 
where to hunt was a problem. The men were urged on, 
and beat the woods as far as possible. I was not able in 
the rain and sleet to start a fire, and in consequence was, 
soon after dark, so benumbed with cold as to be unable to 
rnove. My hands and feet became stiff and useless. After 
night set in I kept up an occasional call. I exhausted my 
cartridges during the afternoon, but the firing did not 
attract any attention. Twice during the night a pack of 
w-olves surrounded me and set up a howl that only the 
timber wolf can make, but their timidity saved me. 
"I had become nearly exhausted when a faint sound 
came to me, to which I replied as loudly as possilale, and 
the answer came, and in a short time a light and four 
men came tearing through the thicket that surrounded 
me. It was then about 5 A. M., and I had lain there from 
about 2 P. M. the afternoon before. These hardy fellows 
stripped off their coats to cover me, built large fires on 
both sides of me, and two of them remained with me and 
two started for camp. They built signal fires on their 
way to guide their return, and with six more men re- 
turned to me and waited for the day to move me. An im- 
provised stretcher was made of blankets, and a trail suffi- 
icently wide to carry me cut through the thicket, and I 
was, at half-past nine, at the loggers' camp, 35 miles from 
any medical assistance. A half mile from the camp my 
wife met the cavalcade, and the blanket stretcher was laid 
down and I had the first opportunity of telling her the 
situation. Her night of suspense and my night of hor- 
rors combined to make the meeting nearly equal to one 
risen from the dead. The devotion, courage and strength 
of woman then asserted itself. A bed was soon arranged, 
nourishing food and drink procured from the meager 
supplies of the loggers, and a messenger w^as sent to the 
nearest point for medical assistance. How the next three 
days passed until the surgeon arrived cannot be told. His 
conclusion was that I must not be moved, must stay 
where I was. A large crew of men were put to work, 
and a log calain 16 by 24 feet was constructed, furniture 
and supplies ordered to equip it, and we settled down 
to our new camp life. I remained in the loggers' camp 
two weeks, and was then removed to the completed cabin. 
Surgeons pronounced the case very serious, if not hope- 
less, and gave me but little encouragement. We settled 
down in our new camp, however, to hope and wait. 
"The month of January came, and the winter roads 
were in good condition, and we decided to risk the move 
from the woods. On a clear winter morning we left the 
little cabin. My bed was placed in the bottom of a large 
sleigh, and I was covered generously with robes and 
blankets for the long, hazardous journey; a second team 
followed to provide for emergencies. We started at 7:30 
A. M., and reached the first camp at i :30, where I was 
taken in for an hour, and then under way again for the 
end of the journey to the railroad. The day's journey 
Avas ended at 4 P. M. We remained there for three days' 
rest, and then took the train for a da3''s ride home. Many 
weary months ensued before I could get around on 
crutches, and not for two years was I able to get along 
without them. Two years after we visited our old haunts. 
The ax of the loggers had destroyed the beauty, and the 
greed of the hunter had about exterminated the noble 
game that so abounded. After three years of camping in 
the old resorts, we abandoned the woods. 
"We learned that the shot was fired by a logger from a _ 
neighboring camp, who abandoned me after firing. He 
left his camp before light the next day without apparent 
cause, and was not seen again in the vicinity. The gun 
he used was borrowed from a fellow workman. There 
was not another gun within a radius of ten miles, and 
this man had spent the afternoon in hunting in the 
vicinity." 
Not far from the camp in which we were then sitting 
another tragedy was enacted only a few years before. 
Chas. Clark, an old, experienced hunter from Fond du 
Lac, Wis., and two companions had come up to hunt 
around Echo Lake. They crossed the river in an old 
batteau, in which they piled their camp truck. They 
reached the other shore and had disembarked when one 
of the young members of the party in drawing his rifle 
from the boat, grabbed it by the muzzle, hit the hammer 
against something, and discharged the gun. The ball 
shattered the young man's hand and then entered Clark's 
side, passing through the liver. He was at once taken out 
where medical assistance could be procured, but died in a 
few hours. As soon as he was shot, he said the wound 
was fatal, as he had hit many deer in the same way and 
noted the sure result. 
The moral drawn from such accidents as these is that 
too much care cannot be exercised. It does not follow 
that hunting is dangerous, any more than it follows that 
riding in a buggy is dangerous because some people are 
killed by runaway horses, but such accidents should teach 
profitable lessons. They should teach care. They should 
teach that to shoot at whatever is seen in the woods with- 
out being sure of what it is is not safe. They show that 
a distinctive color for hunting clothes may some time 
save a man from being taken for game. In the case of 
Mr. Wyatt it was demonstrated once more that in times 
of need the courage and good judgment of woman will 
show, and that she can plan and act under the most try- 
ing circumstances. Carolus. 
The time for moving to summer homes has come, and 
many subscribers to Forest and Stream naturally desire 
to have the addresses of the copy of the paper ivhich goes 
to them changed from winter to summer residences. 
This is a matter that it is well to attend to in time, so 
that no issues of the paper may be lost to the reader. 
Readers who are not subscribers, and who, owing 
ic temporary absences from home, cannot have it 
furnished them by their local dealer, may, by taking short 
time subscriptions, have the paper sent to them for any 
period from one to three months. The charge for sending 
the Forest and Stream is 40 cents for one month, 75 cents 
for tivo months, or $1 for three months' subscription. 
This may be convenient for those who are spending the 
summer ztnthin reach of a post-oMce, yet at a distance 
from nezvs stands. 
A Woman's First Moose Hunt, 
(Concluded from page 482 ) 
When we left home the weather- had been quite warm, 
and for at least one week we found the cold very hard to 
endure. To start about daybreak, in a heavy fog, and 
paddle to the head of the lake and back, a distance of 
eight miles, the pine trees covered with a heavy white 
frost, was more than we could endure with safety, and 
after a few trials we gave up the morning hunting. 
One morning when we came in, Sam, who always 
cooked breakfast, had three grouse lying on a log. He 
said they had walked into camp, and two of them were 
in front of our tent, and he had to shoo them away very 
carefully so he could get the gun. When he got the gun 
they hned up, and he killed two with one shell, then shot 
(he other one. We were living on partridge soup, par- 
tridge stev/, partridge pot-pie, partridge fried and par- 
tridge roasted — not bad fare for the wilderness. 
The mornings were spent hunting birds, fishing, and 
exploring lakes and trails. In the afternoon we followed 
the trail to Moose Lake to hunt. I crossed that portage 
almost every day for three weeks, but at the end of that 
time I do not believe I could have followed the trail alone. 
At the head of Four Mile Lake a very picturesque lit- 
tle river came winding down through the bush. Its 
banks could be traced from some distance down the lake 
by the row of pine trees growing on either shore. It 
always called to mind the description in . stories I had 
read of the avenue or driveway lined on each side by the 
spires of tall pine trees, leading to some great castle in the 
forest. 
Starting early one morning we followed the windings 
of this pretty little stream until stopped by driftwood. 
Soon after landing I shot a spruce partridge on a tree 
near the shore, and it flew across the river and fell dead 
on the other side. When I saw it fly I thought I had 
scored a miss at a sitting bird with a shotgun, and was 
ready to go home, especially as I had been growing quite 
proud of my skill. The bush is too thick for wing shoot- 
ing, a:nd how we did wish for our little target rifle; it 
would have furnished much more sport than getting birds 
Vv'ith the shotgun. 
We left the river and followed an Indian trail through 
the bush, coming to immense deposits of slate, where we 
rested and ate our lunch. After lunch Sam shot a rabbit, 
and we followed the trail to a little stream where we saw 
an old beaver dam, moose tracks, and numerous fresh 
deer tracks, while fresh signs of bear were all around. 
The large bones of a moose that an Indian had evidently 
killed in the summer were piled near a tree and covered 
with spruce boughs, leaving the end of a bone exposed 
here and there. We were going to uncover the bones, 
but Bob stopped us, saying that was the way the Indians 
set a bear trap, and, having due respect for a bear trap, 
we finished our investigation with a pole. 
The head of Four Mile Lake and along the little river 
has been a great moose country, but we saw no fresh 
tracks. They have been shot out in the summer and 
driven back. The settlements are coming too close. We 
returned to the head of Four Mile Lake for the evening 
hunting, and I was glad not to have to cross the portage 
that night. 
One morning we went to Beaver Lake for birds, and 
in an hour or two had five grouse. Near an old beaver 
dam the shores had been cleared for some distance, 
almost fifty feet back from the water, by the beavers. 
Some of the trees were at least six inches in diameter. 
The morning hunting had given the Doctor a severe 
cold, and the guides were keeping the fire in front of our 
tent burning all night. They had been getting up once 
during the night to put on wood, but Sam decided to 
build a self-feeder. He built stone side walls to raise the 
logs a foot from the ground, thus making the fire-place. 
Two poles were then placed, by means of forked sticks, 
at an obtuse angle with the side walls, and logs to re- 
plenish the fire were laid side by side on these poles. As 
the logs on the stones burned in two and fell in the fire, 
those on the poles rolled down and took their place. 
One day the Doctor's cold was so bad that he lay in bed 
m the tent all day. About three o'clock Sam began to 
make preparation to go to Moose Lake for the evening 
hunting. The Doctor was much improved, and as the 
evening was going to be an unusually good one for hunt- 
ing, he insisted that I should go along with Sam, as 
Bob could take care of him and get supper. 
We had been watching on the lake for some time, when 
Sam heard a moose call. It was a long distance from 
the lake, for it called twice before I was sure I heard 
anything. The moose was coming toward the lake, 
directly across from the point on which we sat. Sam 
called, and the moose answered him in a few minutes. 
He called several times, and the moose answered each 
time, .but instead of coming out on the shore went around 
a bay on our right. It called when just back of us. but 
was so close Sam quit calling, and told me to be ready to 
shoot, as the moose would probably come out on the 
shore just behind us. I got down on one knee, rested 
my elbow on the other one to steady the rifle, cocked the 
gun, and waited, feeling perfectly sure that was my 
moose. After waiting what seemed an age, Sam said the 
moose had either seen us or had gotten wind of us, and 
getting into the canoe we pushed quickly out on the lake, 
and then called. The moose answered very promptly, 
but he had crossed over the ridge and was some distance 
from the lake, _ keeping in the same general direction. 
Ssm called again, and when the moose answered it had 
turned and was much nearer the lake, and when it an- 
swered the next call could not have been more than 
fifty yards from shore. It gave the love call, and was 
so close to shore that we thought best to wait, but the 
moose turned, and when next it called was some dis- 
tance from the lake. It was traveling very fast, and we 
heard it call several times, each one fainter than the last. 
It was quite dark now, so we hurried across the lake 
and got ready for the portage. Before we had gone far 
it became evident that we were going to have a storm. 
We found it impossible to always keep on the trail cross- 
ing the bare ridges of rock by lantern light, and it took 
more or less time to hunt the trail, which must be found 
before we could attempt to get down off the ridge. Of 
course when we were so anxious to hurry we lost the 
trail oftener, and had more trouble finding it. The sky 
was black, the air tense, as though any minute the 
