Jan. t4, 1905.] 
send in Antelope, my pet boy. When Antelope came, the 
chief, throwing him a blanket, told him to go up on the 
hill and sit there and call out to direct the party to camp. 
"He won't sit there more than an hour," I thought, "it: 
is too cold. I'll stop that." After a while I went up to 
the boy. He was calling out all right, but each call ended 
in a prolonged whine. 
"Mio, Antelope?" I asked. . - 
"Mucho mio," he told me— very cold. 
"You come," I said ; and taking him down to the lodge, 
I said : "Chief, this is my boy. I don't want him to 
freeze. It is too cold. He get sick. I don't like that he 
stay here. I go up, podo tempo, and make a noise 
myself." 
"Let him stay, then," the chief told me. 
Taking my pistol, I went up on the hill and fired a shot 
straight up, then in a moment fired two more. "Come in" 
that meant. Directly a flash across the prairie answered 
me. They were coming in. 
They came in soon after, but had to drop the mule on 
the prairie ; the squaw could not lead him, and he would 
not drive, they said. The chief was growling about that. 
"I'll get him to-morrow," I told him. "We can find_ him." 
The next morning it was warm again, and gathering up 
the boys, we started to hunt the mule, and found him 
five miles away quietly grazing with about 300 pounds of 
meat on his back, which he had been carrying all night; 
and heading him for camp, we got behind him with our 
lariats and persuaded him not to lose any time in getting 
there. Cabia Blanco, 
[to be continued.] 
Indian Doctors. 
Our Oldtown Indians now live in good houses and 
dress and speak English as well as the white people do; 
but when T was a child and we had more than twice as 
many Indian as white neighbors, then in summer they 
lived in birch bark wigwams, the men wore breech-cloth 
and leggings, and every man carried a stone pipe and 
sheath-knife in his belt, while the women wore blankets 
and pointed caps. I used to play ^vith the little Indian 
boys because they never quarreled as the white boys did, 
and as we grew up together many of them were firm 
friends of mine. Among others was a young man named 
Newell Clos$ian. In time our ways parted, and we did 
not meet for years. Then one day in Bangor my attention 
was attracted to a singular looking person on the other 
side of the street. He was dressed in a light-colored coat, 
which was trimmed with a black fringe some four inches 
deep, with a second row some inches above that, and his 
long, silky hair fell below his shoulders. I crossed over 
so as to meet him. To my surprise I found him to be 
my old friend Newell, but he gave not the least sign of 
recognizing me. 
Feeling sure I was not mistaken, I said : "Are you not 
Newell Clossian?" 
Giving me his hand, he said: "Yes. Just wanted to see 
if you would know me." 
"What in the world are you rigged up in this way for?" 
"Well, you see, I'm Injun doctor. 'Spose dress like 
other folks, no one notice me. Now everybody say, 'Who 
that man?' 'Why, that Injun doctor.' You see, we live in 
New Bedford now ; we got it copperplate picture of In- 
jun with feathers on head to put in nevv'spapers ; we ad- 
vertise Injun Doctor; get along first rate. Come dovvn 
here get roots an' herbs doctor with. I tell you about it. 
You know we used ribber dribe [river drive] ; well, one 
day when we have forenoon lunch we say to ourself, 
'Newell, this ribber dribin' too hard work for you — kill 
you by 'n by.' Then I think what I shall do. Used be, 
when small boy, old Injun doctor named Lewie Snake. 
We used go in woods with him get medicine. We think 
so we will be Injun doctor. We don't know more 'bout 
doctorin' than devil does; but you know white folks cheat 
Injun, an' we 'spose all right Injun cheat white folks. 
So we try doctorin' an' come jus' 's natural as can be. 
"We tell you one case. We goin' 'long street in New 
Bedford. Ooman come door large brick house with steps 
high up. He make hand go dis way [beckoning with 
hand]. We gone over see what he want; speak so: 
'Come up stair.' When gone up, he open door into room 
all dark. I tell you we berry 'fraid then. We don't know 
what he want, but we know we hain't hurt anybody there. 
"When eyes get so can see in dark, we see ooman in 
bed with cloth on his eyes. Speak so, 'We want you cure 
dis ooman.' Says he got film or. eye so can't see. 
"Well, we think what vie shall do. We don't know 
nothin' 'bout eyes, but we 'member somebody speak so 
tobacco good sore eyes. We chewin' tobacco that time; 
we got nothin' else, so we think we try tobacco. Room 
dark so they can't see. So we slip hand over mouth and 
took out tobacco, and we say, 'Yes, we can cure hirn in 
three days; we make two visits day, charge nine shillings 
visit ($1.50). In three days cure him.' 
'We tell him open his eye an' we squeeze in tobacco 
juice. Guess must hurt, for he squeal very bad. We tell 
him come again afternoon. 
"You see, we think. ' 'Spose we find him worse, we 
don't go 'gain. 'Spose don't worse, we keep go.' 
''Well, in afternoon speak so, 'No worse,' so we try 
tobacco 'gain. Think so, maybe tobacco is good sore eyes. 
"Next forenoon says, 'Better,' so we keep goin'. 
"Afternoon says, 'Think can see some.' 
"Next forenoon can see pretty well. 
"In afternoon speak so, 'Can see well.* 
"We don't know what did it; we know we got our nine 
dollars. Guess tobacco must be good sore eyes." 
He returned to New Bedford and I heard from him as 
prospering in his business, but a few years later he and 
all his family died of smallpox at some place in Con- 
necticut. 
Another Indian doctor was a stately old fraud named 
Joe Socabesin. He used to tell me of his feats in doctor- 
ing, but his greatest performance happened some fifty 
years ago. He was in Belfast, Maine, and got in debt to 
a wealthy shipowner named Alfred Johnston. Johnston 
got an execution against him for ten dollars. Joe paid it, 
and ihen asked for a receipt. 
The justice said. "You do not need any receipt." 
"Sartin, me want receipt." 
"What do you want a receipt for?" 
"Well, bimeby me die, me go hebben. Speak so, 'Joe, 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
you ben owe anybody?' We speak so, 'No.' 'You ben 
pay Alf Johnston ?' 'Yes.' 'Then 'spose you show receipt.' 
Then we have to go way down hunt all over hell to hunt 
up 'Squire Johnston." 
This story immediately found its way into print, and 
has been more than once repeated ; but I can vouch for its 
authenticity, for I knew old Joe. Manly Hardy. 
Medicine in Camp. 
New York. — Editor Forest and Stream: In Forest 
and Stream for January 7, 1905, Mr. George Kennedy 
asks about medicines to be taken into camp. One can 
more safely give a list of things that may be taken "into 
camp" than of things to be taken "in camp," and the 
only thing that one can recommend without a feeling of 
responsibility is Christian Science. There are many occa- 
sions, however, when just a little water will put out a 
starting fire, even if it is administered by campers who 
are not very familiar with the uses of water. 
Some of the handy things that one can take along in a 
small kit are these : 
Rubber Plaster — Uses. — To put on places where blisters 
threaten to form ; to protect broken nails ; to protect the 
site of threatened boils; to mend holes in clothing when 
one is in a hurry. Dangers- — When put over broken blis- 
ters, or used for the purpose of closing cuts. Serum 
dammed by the plaster may become a dangerous culture 
field for bacteria. 
Hypodermatic Syringe — Uses. — To inject cocaine solu- 
tion at the site of a splinter or fish hook that needs to be 
cut out, or into the skin where an abscess is to be opened. 
Surgeon's Needle and Aseptic Silk or Catgut. — For 
closing cuts and tying blood vessels. Danger — Of closing 
wounds which should remain open. 
Boracic Acid Powder. — For putting on opened blisters, 
perspiring feet, chafed places, and cuts which remain 
open. 
Cocaine Crystals — Uses. — To be dissolved in twenty-five 
volumes of boiled water after it has cooled, for the pur- 
pose of injection with the hypodermatic syringe, or to be 
put in the eye for benumbing the site of a cinder or other 
object that is to be removed. Danger — Of using too 
much. Half a grain may be dangerous. 
Squibb's Cholera Mixture — Uses. — For stopping an in- 
cipient diarrhoea. Danger — Of using it in diarrhoea due to 
fermentation of food, where a cathartic should be used 
instead. 
Compound Cathartic Pills — Uses. — For constipation, 
and for fermentative diarrhoea. There are better things 
to use for the purpose, but these are handy. 
Small Sharp Scalpel — Uses. — For removing splinters 
and fish-hooks, opening abscesses, and for getting at in- 
jured blood vessels. The scalpel should be passed through 
a flame for disinfection before being used. 
Bandages and dressings are bulky, and can ordinarily 
be improvised from clothing. Such material should be 
boiled for an hour for disinfection and then dried. 
SpHnts for fractures are readily improvised from bark 
in a forest region. 
The list of things that I have enumerated can be 
elaborated to a quotation of all of the Surgeon General's 
Library at Washington; but after years of camping and 
exploring, and a good deal of experience with people 
who were injured or ill in camp, my own outfit has been 
reduced to the proportions above given. Men who have 
done moie camping in southern countries will no doubt 
add some practical suggestions for medicine in that field. 
Mr. Kennedy refers to a case of appendicitis that was 
cut of reach of competent help. It would be unsafe for a 
layman to attempt to do the slightest thing in a case of 
that sort excepting to advise absolute rest, and withhold- 
ing all food for two days. It is so easy for even physi- 
cians to do the wrong thing in these cases requiring the 
highest degree of professional skill far their management, 
that what might seem to a layman a simple resource for 
relief, could precipitate disaster. There are many other 
conditions met with in camp where life turns on a hair's 
breadth of judgment in the application of resources; but 
we have to take our chances on that sort of thing, and 
on the whole, men in camp are safer than the ones in the 
city who jump out of the way of an automobile and land 
in front of a trolley car, or who get infections carried by 
Cimex instead of by Culex. Robert T. Morris. 
Louisiana. 
Away from the bank of the Tensas the deer trails were 
followed westward into long open woods of oak and ash, 
then winding narrowly among vines and brush into other 
open woods. 
At the edge of one of the thickets of vines and bushes, 
standing in seeming reproach to its neighbors, the forest 
trees, of their shortness of life, is a large mound. I found 
ii while wandering somewhat aimlessly as to bearings, 
and he would be a woodsman who could go to that spot 
again unless, as at the first time, by accident or the 
guiding instinct of those who built the mound. The 
Tensas swamps are level and of vast extent ; each open 
flat is like the others, and each thicket is like the next 
'beyond and the next. The mound only is different, and 
stands thirty feet high or more. Deer trails lead over and 
around it. A "scrape" on top was freshened up that 
morning. 
The mound was bare, except for several small trees 
on the slopes and two large ones on top — trees probably 
a hundred, years old, one of which was beginning to decay 
in the upper branches. It. too, will soon sway in the 
breezes of the Happy Hunting Grounds, and perchance 
shade the wigwam of the big chief whose ashes now re- 
pose beneath its spreading roots. The Happy Hunting 
Grounds are for the big chief and maybe the trees, but 
the mound must stay and witness the coming and going 
of generations of men and trees. 
From the top of the mound the view to the northward 
is into a broad forest of oaks, with no underbrush, and 
down the long vista the hunter watches for the coming 
of the monster buck that had made the scrape, but in- 
stead came apparitions of those men of long ago who had 
toiled in their crude way to build this monument to their 
perseverance. Civilization builds edifices of beauty and 
grandeur, and there is admiration. The mound builders, 
27 
without civilization or implements, raised this structure 
that the onset of the elements does not mar or disturb. 
It was built long ago, before these giant trees were 
sprouts — perhaps the generation before them Lad not had 
birth. " _ 
The builders of the mound passed away, and if the red 
men were not the builders, they came after and passed 
away also. The Spaniards and the Frenchmen came, but 
few sojounjed. The race that next appeared, in its social 
environment, has also passed. Within a few miles— 
almost within sound of hunter's horn from where the 
uTound and time strive for the mastery— was once the 
garden spot of North Louisiana. Broad areas are grown 
up that were rich fields. Here are two massive gate posts 
gone to decay, and there a pile of old bricks is all of the 
chimney that is left, with no other trace of the old planta- 
tion home. In the thicket and cane a mile away the 
four lines of heavy, decayed posts mark the site of the old 
"horsepower" gin. The manager's house and "quarters" 
were, near-by, and on the clear, crisp mornings of early 
spring the plantation bell could have been heard deep 
into the swamps — almost to the mound; while the songs 
of the well fed negroes who rode the plow mules to field 
could be heard near half as far. 
The mound stands while these have all come and gone, 
and will be silent witness to the clearing away of the 
last tree and the making of his far-away retreat another 
mournful sacrifice to the greed of man. When this shall 
be, keep this great mound untouched, good desecrator, in 
honor to the m.en who could abide and toil in the forest 
and receive of its bounty and destroy not a tree of God's 
making. 
Eastward, over other deer trails, the river was reached, 
and at the camp on the other side the cook had been in 
other occupation than reverie, for there was venison in 
camp of yesterday's kill, and five hungry hunters will not 
abide procrastination. Tripod. 
Mississippi. 
How Should a Man Sleep? 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The question as to the proper position of bedsteads 
raised in a recent issue of Forest and Stream is an inter- 
esting one. But I do not think it concerns sportsmen. 
I have not heard of any of these who are in the habit of 
turning their heads to a particular point of the compass 
when they lie down to sleep. All they ask is something 
on which to stretch themselves, and whether it be six 
feet of earth or a hair mattress does not really matter 
very much. Those in the habit of reading Forest and 
Stream do not need to have instances of this set before 
them. The fact is that sportsmen are not troubled with 
"nerves," that modern fashionable malady, offspring of 
the city and parent of insomnia and twenty other miseries. 
But for those who are so troubled — and alas ! how in- 
finitely they outnumber the sportsmen ! — such questions as 
this of Mr. de Varigny will always possess an overpower- 
ing fascination. Should the head of their bed point to the 
north or south? Should they eat before retiring or go to 
bed hungry? What should be the temperature of the 
room? How high should the pillow be? How many 
blankets should be worn? Is a soft mattress best or one 
moderately hard? Is it good to lie on the back or should 
one lie first on the right side and then on the left or vice 
versa ; or should the back be the first position and then 
the side, and if so, which side? And so on. 
Now as to the first question, I will not pretend to say 
that there is nothing in the theory of polar currents 
properly applied superinducing sleep ; but I cannot help 
telling here a story which- I-heard the other evening, and 
which seems to have a bearing on the matter. 
A friend of mine who lives in the country had as a 
guest one evening a denizen of the town, whom we shall 
call Mr. Smith. The entertainment was so much to 
Smith's taste that he forgot all about the passage of time, 
and finally when he pulled out his watch he found that 
it was past midnight, and that he had missed his train. 
My friend, however, put him at his ease by telling .him 
there was a spare bedroom to which he was heartily wel- 
come ; so there was another cigar smoked, and possibly 
another little something else indulged in, when host and 
guest proceeded upstairs to bed. As soon as Smith en- 
tered his room he observed the bed with a good deal of 
attention, and then asked a little timidly which way it 
pointed. My friend, divining the object of the question, 
and resolved to have some fun, answered "south," though 
the bed pointed north. "But why do you ask?" he con- 
tinued, innocently. "Well," stammered Smith, "the fact is 
I have never — no, sir. never in my life — been able to sleep 
with my head in any other direction than the north." 
"Oh, all right," said my friend, "let us change those pil- 
lows, then. I guess it won't be necessary to turn the bed 
around." An hour afterward he stole back to the room 
and found Smith snoring blissfully with his head to the 
south. 
Wonderful is the pov/er of imagination! But really, 
now, do we not humor it a little too much? We give 
way to it on all manner of occasions till instead of being 
our servant — our efficient, loyal, delightful servant — it be- 
comes our tyrant. As a tyrant, however, it does not begin 
to compare with another, namely, the drug habit. Rather 
than fall under this, let the victims of insomnia point their 
beds at the moon or the nether depths, or never go to 
bed at all ! Frank Moonan. 
New York, Jan. 6. 
Harper's Ba/caar says: Here, then, are the three deadly 
symptoms of old age : 
Selfishness — Stagnation — Intolerance, 
If we find them in ourselves we may know we arc 
growing old, even if we are on the merry side of thirty. 
But, happily, we have three defenses which are invulner- 
able ; if we use them we shall die young if we live to be 
a hundred. They are: 
Sympathy— Progress — Tolerance. _; 
"Did you ever have insomnia?" 
"Sure!" replied the man who pretptids to ktiow it all, 
"What did you do for it?" 
"Just slept it off."— Houston Po?t. ' i' ' 'n, 
