444 
and thus for a time the subtle influence of Indian sum- 
mer causes the winter gods to shrink and fade from our 
vision. Nevertheless, their obscurity is of short dura- 
tion; another day dawns with a gray, overcast zenith, 
high winds and exhilarating ozone; or else a gale from 
the northeast fills the air with whirling snowflakes and 
freezes the earth in an icy grip. But again, a breath 
from the south may dispel the northern forces before 
they obtain full sway, and in fact one does not ever 
rw what new mood the weather will assume, or what 
fresh outlook will greet him each morning. 
Radiant dawns and glowing sunsets are characteristic 
of this month; it appears at times as though the sky 
drew nearer, while the colors and clouds became more 
ncensified and individual. Now that the earth has 
faded, and there remain only russet pasture lands and 
oak leaves to warm the scene, the heavens seem to 
replace this loss with rich, luminous skies, reflections, as 
it were, from some Elysian field clothed in perpetual 
brilliancy and beauty. The dawns "come up like 
thunder," and before the blaze of mellow gold, which 
so often ushers in a day of gray quietude, Thoreau's 
"morning twilight" retreats with haste to nightly 
realms. Some time previous to the sun's appearance, 
the branches of the trees, woven in a network against 
the sky, will take on a green-bronze sheen most allur- 
ing and wonderful to the eyesight. Is it not Horatio 
who says to his companion as they wait for Hamlet in 
the gray early hours, 
"But, look; the morn in russet mantle clad, 
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill." 
We would only have to place the word frosts in the 
stead of "dew" to obtain a complete and ideal descrip- 
tion of November sunrises. 
As the twilight deepens on the mountains, those 
clouds which have rested heavily along the horizon, lift 
and break up, revealing a clear vivid sunset which fills 
us with calm, inspiring contemplations. Ethereal 
islands that glow with a celestial light, drift on a sea 
of fiery color, while further up the sky fades into pale 
saffron or bluish-green tints. We look on and on 
through the ocean of illimitable space, and perchance 
our thoughts may float as serenely over the horizon of 
destiny as these clouds above the setting sun. 
After all, then, the sky remains everlastingly fruitful 
throughout the year; its brilliancy lingers when the 
sombre cloak and withering frosts of late autumn de- 
prive the landscape of richer colors, and its warm sun- 
sets animate the bleakest seasons. 
Paulina Brandreth. 
The Last Wild Turkey. 
A Thanksgiving Story. 
I will tell the story as it was told me by Tim Mul- 
cahy-, though not in his words, which, I confess, ran a 
little to prolixity. 
It seems that one evening m November as there was 
an informal congress of the sports of the village 
around the stove in the postoffice, Al Budd came in 
from the woods and reported that he'd seen a wild 
turkey— a great buster of a fellow. Immediately there 
was intense excitement. Not for many years had a 
wild turkey been seen in the woods, and it was supposed 
that the race had become extinct, in those parts at 
least. Besides Thanksgiving was coming on. Who 
was to be the lucky man to give thanks over "that old 
Mohican— the last of his race in Buckram county"— as 
one speaker eloquently described him. 
But presently the excitement subsided as suddenly 
as it had arisen, for it had occurred to the assemblage 
that after all Al Budd was only "taking a rise out of 
them" and was even then laughing in his sleeve. So 
he became the object of the severest and most pene- 
trating scrutiny. And at the suggestion of one wise 
man (delivered in a whisper), he who was noted 
most for his powers of cross-examination (having once 
been a clerk in a lawyer's office), began to put Al 
through his facings. Where had he seen the turkey? 
Was he sure it was a turkey? How far off was it? 
Was it a hundred yards? Would he swear it was a 
hundred yards? What did the turkey do? Did it gob- 
ble or make any other noise? Would he be able to 
identify it if he saw it again? Etc. etc., much to the 
admiration of the crowd. 
But Al bore it all without flinching, and as besides he 
had a tolerable reputation for telling the truth, it was 
finally concluded that he had really seen a wild turkey, 
strange as the thing appeared. Whereupon there was 
a revival of the excitement and the sports began to 
drop off to look to their weapons and map out plans 
of campaign. All, that is but Tim Mulcahy, who as he 
expressed it to the writer afterwards, scorned to be 
found among "a lot of murderin' pot hunters, drivin' 
a poor stray bird to death." 
Well, bright and early next day Gus Schwake, Ed 
Moebus and "Dutch Pete,"~ with some others of lesser 
fame, were off to the woods. And perhaps they didn't 
beat them! But the turkey was nowhere to be found, 
much to the chagrin and disappointment of the beaters. 
Towards evening they happened to converge at an open 
spot and began to compare notes. "Dutch Pete" de- 
clared that there was no use in going after a wild tur- 
key. The only way was to wait for it. Ed Moebus 
inquired a little sarcastically of Pete where he was go- 
ing to wait. Gus Schwake thought Pete was right but 
said it would first be necessary to find out where the 
turkey roosted and then build a blind. He had hardly- 
ceased speaking when their three hearts leaped into 
their mouths as they heard a commotion as of some 
big bird alighting in a tree nearby. Instantly they 
crouched and Ed Moebus, who was the best Indian, 
started off on all-fours to make a reconnoissance. He 
returned in half an hour and reported that he had been 
unable to locate the bird, but that doubtless it was 
somewhere in the neighborhood. It was then agreed 
that they should remain where they were until morning, 
only separating and concealing themselves around the 
open space, where probably the bird would come to 
feed, as nuts appeared to be plentifully scattered about. 
The night passed slowly and uncomfortably for the 
FOHEST^AKD_STHEAM> 
watchers, but day at length dawned and they sat up on 
the alert and full of expectation. The light was still 
rather thick when they were thrilled to the soles of 
their feet at hearing a heavy flapping of wings and 
presently the object of their watch sailed down ma- 
jestically and lit in the middle of the open space. For 
a moment the noble bird stood looking about him 
warily. Being evidently satisfied with his observations 
he was in the act of lowering his head when there was 
a three-cornered explosion which shook the forest. 
Almost simultaneously the three sports dashed out to 
seize the prize. But judge of their feelings when they 
beheld the turkey take wing and disappear over the 
tops of the trees apparently uninjured! 
"I schvear dot bird ain'd humans!" cried "Dutch 
Pete" excitedly. 
Ed Moebus and Gus Schwake were too surprised to 
speak. 
To soothe their feelings they filled their pipes and 
had a smoke, and then concluding that there was no 
more hunting for that day they slowly and sadly turned 
for home. It was agreed that nothing should be said 
about what had happened, for while they felt that there 
must have been some enchantment at work, they real- 
ized that it would not be easy to make the village take 
that view; Unfortunately, however, "Dutch Pete," 
who had a loose tongue, blabbed the matter to his 
wife, who told it to Mrs. Belschnickel, and then the cat 
was out of the bag. 
So the three sports became the laughing stock of the 
village. All they could say in self-defense was that the 
turkey must have been a phantom. "Dutch Pete," 
who by reason of his indiscretion felt that the onus of 
defense lay upon him, was sure it was a phantom. 
They had heard of phantom ships and phantom deer, 
why not phantom turkeys? And now he recalled sev- 
eral circumstances at first unmentioned, such as that 
the turkey's eye shone like a cat's in the dark, and that its 
feathers emitted a sort of blue fire, like they saw on 
plum-puddings at Christmas. All this only set the vil- 
lage laughing the more heartily, and Tim Mulcahy was 
especially unmerciful in his raillery. 
"Talkin' of blue fire, Pete," said he, "did you ever 
hear of such a thing as a blue funk?" 
It was the eve of Thanksgiving, a beautiful dry crisp 
evening, and the boys were all loafing down the road from 
Jake Kiimmelwasser's. 
While the fun was at its height someone descried 
a tramp coming up the road. On observing the crowd 
the tramp hesitated and appeared to be about to turn 
back, but apparently realizing that if he did it would 
be no use as he should be pursued, having excited sus- 
picion, he continued on. When he came up it was seen 
he had a bag slung across his shoulder. 
"What have you got in the bag, cap?" demanded Tim 
Mulcahy. 
The tramp appeared to be in trouble at once. He 
flushed, stammered something about "old rags" and 
shifted from one dusty foot to another. 
r "Boys," said Tim, "I'm a respecter of every man's 
liberty, even when he's a hobo, but I think it'll do no 
harm to see what's in that bag. Come, open up, me 
man." 
Thereupon the tramp grew saucy, as you please — 
told Tim and his companions that they were only a lot 
of "fresh country ducks," and that if they attempted 
any interference with him he would bang them over 
the head with the bag. 
After this bold bluff he suddenly changed his tune 
and began to cry. 
It was obvious to the assembled sports that the poor 
wretch was a little simple, as the saying is. 
"There — there," said Tim soothingly, "we don't want 
to take anything from you, me poor man. We were 
only foolin.' Whatever you've got you're welcome to 
it. So good day to you." 
The tramp was moving off, then suddenly turned and 
called out: 
"Will you buy it?" 
i ^Buy what? What is it?" said Tim. 
"Something you don't see every day," answered the 
tramp. 
With that he lowered his bag and pulled out a wild 
turkey. 
There was a sensation! You may be sure all the 
boys opened their eyes. 
"And how did you kill it?" queried Tim, examining 
the bird. 
"I killed it with a stone," answered the tramp. 
Tim ceased his examination and regarding the tramp 
repeated: 
"Killed it with a stone?" 
"Yes," said the tramp, "see where I hit it on the 
head." 
Tim now turned his eyes on the crowd and burst 
into a laugh that echoed away back in the valley. In 
this he was joined by all, except Ed Moebus, Gus 
Schwake and "Dutch Pete," who hung their heads and 
looked terribly abashed. 
"Oh, Lord," exclaimed Tim, "I'll never get over 
this. To think that a stone could do more execution 
than three guns! But come, never mind, boys," he 
said, observing the suffering of Ed and his companions, 
"We've got the turkey anyway and that's the main 
thing. I invite yez all to Jake Kiimmelwasser's to- 
morrow for a slice. And you too," he said, addressing 
the tramp, who on hearing this concluded that that was 
to be his only payment and appeared again about to 
cry, so Tim hastened to add: 
"In the meantime here's a dollar for you and me re- 
spectful compliments on your skill." 
It only remains to be recorded that the following 
day at Jake's became historic in the village as the Wild 
Turkey Thanksgiving. , . 
Frank.. Moonan. 
The Gamp-Fife* 
The menu card of the Canadian Camp : -Fire Club dinner last 
week was graced with this cameo Vy Edwin L. Fabin : 
"Cold night weighs down the forest bbugh, 
Strange shapes go flitting through the gloom; 
But see— a spark, a flame, and now 
The Wilderness is boa>e." 
tov. 26, 1064. 
Trails of the Pathfinders.— XX, 
Ross Cox. 
(Concluded from page 425.) 
It was October 17, the anniversary of the sailing ffom 
Mew ^ork of the Beaver, that Cox and Farnham set out 
on theiivtradmg expedition to the Flatheads; and on the 
loth of November they reached the small village of these 
people, fhey were charmed with their frank and hos- 
pitable reception, and with the superiority in cleanliness 
ot these Indians over other tribes that they had seen. 
Ihey deterfnined to remain here for awhile, and began 
the building of a log house in which to winter. Mean- 
time the Indians kept coming in, and they made quite a 
trade in beaver. In December, Cox, having had a good 
canoe built of cedar planks, took leave of Farnham, and 
with six men set out to descend the river to Spokan 
which was reached about New Year's day. 
Soon after returning to Astoria a tragedy occurred 
the people at the fort had been losing many things 
through the pilfering of the Indians. It seemed impos- 
sible to detect them, and appeals to the chief did not stop 
the stealing, nor bring back the stolen property. At last 
things came to such a pass that two armed sentinels were 
placed at either end of the camp, with orders to conceal 
themselves and to keep a sharp lookout. Shortly after 
midnight they saw a man creep out of one of the tents 
carrying a bundle of clothing and some other things! 
1 hey watched and followed him until they saw him step 
into a small canoe at the water's edge, when they stepped 
forward and captured him. All hands were now called, 
and an inventory was taken of the property. Most of the 
things that were missing were found in the canoe with 
the man, but he declined to tell what had become of the 
remamden The thief had never been suspected, and in 
view of this, and the aggravated character of the robbery, 
Mr. Clark determined to hang the man, as he had said a 
few days before at the council of the Indians he would 
do if he detected him. The man was accordingly hanged, 
the Indians having previously been asked if they did not 
legard this as a proper punishment for one who had com- 
mitted these offenses. AlFagreed that it was right that 
he should die. 
During a trip to the Flatheads Cox witnessed an ex- 
traordinary display of fortitude by a Blackfoot prisoner 
whom they were torturing. It is a graphic picture of 
the savage cruelty of the savage man, and is far too hor- 
rible to print. An effort was made by the traders to put 
an end to these tortures, and the Flatheads were induced 
to set free, and send away to their people, a number of 
Blackfeet women. To these prisoners, now being set free, 
it was explained that torture between the tribes ought to 
cease, and as they were turned loose unharmed, it was 
hoped that they would persuade their people on the 
prairies to abstain in future from torturing Flathead cap- 
tives. Cox is enthusiastic about the attractiveness of the 
Flatheads. It was here that he was successfully treated 
for rheumatism by an old Indian doctor; the cure being 
a morning bath in the river, now frozen over, through a 
hole in the ice, followed by rubbing of the affected parts 
by the old doctor. After twenty-five days of the treat- 
ment the trouble had entirely disappeared. 
There came to this remote northwest corner in the 
autumn news of the War of 1812, and British war vessels 
took possession of Astoria in the name of the King, and 
named the trading post "Fort George." It is rather 
touching to read that the Indians at the mouth of the 
Columbia River flocked to the post and offered their 
services to resist the war vessel, in order that the Ameri- 
cans might not be captured and made slaves, as the In- 
dians supposed they now would be. The offer, of course, 
was declined, since most of the employes were already 
British subjects, and were only too glad to be captured by 
their countrymen. 
'■• The arms . of the Indians about the mouth of the 
Columbia River were bows and arrows, and a short, 
double-edged sword, or club, about two and a half feet 
long. The Indians wore armor, a shirt of elkskin, which 
was doubled and thrown over the shoulders, with holes 
for the arms, and reached as far as the ankle, and was 
perfectly arrow-proof. The head was covered by a war 
cap or helmet, made of bark, grass and leather, and would 
also resist a ball. They had another kind of arm or which 
was formed of thin slips of hard wood, ingeniously laced 
together, and much lighter and more pliable than the elk- 
skin coat. The extraordinary canoes built by these people 
have often been described, as have also their great houses. 
In August, 1814, a party of sixty men, including pro- 
prietors and clerks, left Fort George to go up the river 
with trade goods. On the way they met some Indians, 
who attempted to steal various small articles, and were 
warned to stop it, but paid no attention, to the orders. 
Three caught in the act of pilfering were flogged. At 
night the party was attacked by Indians, and a Canadian 
was killed. There were many narrow escapes. Passing 
up the river they met with the Walla Wallas, who re- 
ceived them in their usual friendly way. A little later the 
party separated, that to which Cox was assigned going to 
Spokan House, where the Indians, who had expended all 
their ammunition, received them with great joy. An 
amusing sketch is given of the personality and character 
of the _ Scotchman, McDonald, celebrated for his great 
size, his flaming red hair, and his daring bravery. A 
small tribe of Indians were camped between an immense 
fall in the Columbia, known as La Chaudiere and Spokan 
House; their chief was a philosopher, frugal, thrifty, op- 
posed to gambling, and so in many respects different 
front the average Indian. Here occurred the death of 
Pere Hoole at the age of ninety-two, while he was setting 
his traps. 
In October the various parties returned to Fort George 
with the proceeds of their trade, and on the 18th of No- 
vember again set out for the interior. Not far above the 
mouth of the Walla Walla, they met a number of Indians 
coming down. They stopped the first canoes to ask for 
tobacco, and as they passed, the last ones, endeavored to 
take from them some bales of goods. The arms of the 
canoemen were not_ within reach, but each of the proprie- 
tors or clerks carried his arms. Every effort was made 
to avoid open hostilities. The canoemen tried to beat the 
Indians off with their paddles, and the Indians had not 
yet attempted to use their arms. When a tall Indian re- 
fused to let go the bale of goods that he was trying t© 
