June io, 1905.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
481 
i in 
had located a five-inch seam of rotten, oxydized hematite 
of iron crossing a deep granite canyon. This iron was 
rich in gold, some pockets going as high as a dollar a 
pound. After breakfast the Chink would bring our lunch 
and then sit for the greater part of the day watching us 
run a tunnel in on. the seam or build the little arrastra 
in which to crush the ore. An arrastra is a Mexican mill, 
circular, built of hard, flat stone in which a heavy boulder 
is dragged over the ore by a burro. I may be allowed the 
space in some other story to tell how they are built by 
prospectors. 
One morning after Pet brought our lunch he returned 
to the cabin. We learned that night at supper that he 
had been out trying to "ketchum" mine, but "no ketchum ; 
mebbe so tomollo." The next night when we went to 
camp there was no signs of supper and the Chink was 
missing. 
"I reck'n he has gone out an' got himself snakebit or a 
bear has stampeded him along with the burros. It's up 
to you, Pete, to hit his trail an' bring in the remains of 
your pet," said Sam. 
"It ain't bear," said Paystreak as he pointed across the 
flat to where our burros were filing out of a canyon and 
idling along toward camp, stopping to snip at some choice 
bit of herbage or at one another. As we looked "Nig," 
the big black burro, stopped, faced half-way round, threw 
forward his long ears and the others did the same. We 
listened intently and were rewarded by hearing a long 
wail coming from a gulch in a spur of sharp buttes that 
ran out on the flat. The waller was evidently in great 
!, distress, and catching up our rifles we ran in his direction. 
As we approached the wails became more distinct. I 
don't know what the wail of a soul lost in purgatory 
sounds like, but if it is anything like that coming from 
that gulch you can scratch me out of the race for that 
goal. I have heard our burros coming into camp a few 
jumps ahead of a mountain lion, and the sounds they 
made, sometimes in the air and sometimes on the ground, 
as they tried to tell what was coming, were calculated to 
make a nervous man join the procession; but that Chink 
had them faded. We advanced warily; we knew there 
were no Indians in that country save a few wandering 
Mojaves who were entirely hamiless, but they might have 
found Pet and put him through the third degree to learn 
if he was human. 
Around the first bend in the gulch we found him. He 
was sitting on his haunches on a flat, black formation that 
cut across the bottom of the gulch. All the yellow in him 
was in his face as he held it upturned and sent his soul- 
searching cry out among the hills. His voice was over- 
worked and hoarse; a sound that started well as a shriek 
ended in a hoarse moan, and one that started in a moan 
would end in a piercing top note that carried, far; he had 
lost control of it in each register. I have shot more than 
one coyote as he was in that same position for voicing 
his misery on the vast, merciless silence. The "impassive 
stoicism" of the Oriental in that Chink's case proved but 
the gauziest veil, and being torn away revealed all the 
horror, agony and yellow fear underneath. 
"Ther's yo' pet, Hellfire ; 'pears like somebody had been 
settin' bird lime 'roun' yeh," said Sam as we sat on boul- 
ders and yelled in laughter. This increased the horror 
of the Chink, who evidently thought that the "white 
devils" had invented some new torture. For a time he 
was speechless, gazing appealingly from one to the other. 
Finally he asked plaintively : "Whally mally ; no moveum 
feet?" 
"What's the matter?" repeated Hellfire. "1 ake off your 
shoes, you yellow heathen." 
• A great light broke over Pet's face as he untied the 
lace of his brogans and stepped gingerly back on the sand. 
Pete took hold of the shoes . and with a mighty yank 
""wrenched them loose, leaving some of the nails points up. 
The Chink had stepped on a ledge of magnetic iron and 
the big-headed hobnails in the soles of his shoes had 
clamped him to the metal as in a vise, holding him there 
for the better part of a scorching hot, dry afternoon. 
Pet's "look — see" curiosity was completely satiated two 
nights after. Near the stove a three by three opening 
had been sawed in the side of the cook-house. On a nail 
inside this window the Chink generally kept hanging a 
slab of bacon, but it was missing the next morning after 
his experience in the gulch. 
"Somebody come — stealem bacon," said he. 
We circled around the shack and soon picked up the 
trail of a big grizzly. "To-night he come me ketchum," 
said Pet, who slept in the cook-house, our tent being about 
fifty yards away; he pointed to another piece of bacon 
that he had hung on the nail. 
"Better put your pet wise, Pete, to the trouble he is 
enticin' by baitin' himself thataway," suggested Paystreak. 
"Let the blankety blank, blank yellow heathen alone," 
replied Pete, who had begun to show signs of a cloyed 
appetite and a longing for home cooking. Bears love 
pork, and bacon is a choice bit. It was a "cinch" that the 
big silvertip would return, but we were too tired to wait 
up for him, as he would not put in an appearance until 
late. He came and went, but the first we knew of it was 
a series of Chinese yells and shrieks from the cook-house. 
"There, Hellfire, it sure sounds like yo' pet done 'ket- 
chum'," said Sam, as each man jumped from his bunk, at 
the same time taking his rifle from the forked sticks at 
his head. 
In the cook-house we found the Chink busy. With 
his left hand he was furiously snatching from a box 
handfuls of bits of red paper which he was throwing 
about the room regardless, while his shaking right was 
trying to light a bunch of punk sticks which he kept stuck 
in a tomato can filled with sand. We tried to get him 
to say something a white man could understand, but for 
the time being he was a jibbering, jabbering, blithering, 
blathering idiot. We saw that the bacon was gone and 
knew then what the Chink had seen, but at that time he 
was in no condition to utter words that would indicate 
to a man and a Christian that he was even trying to talk. 
The first flash of returning reason was when we turned 
<c go out. He was across the room, but before we reached 
the door he was in the center of the file. We made 
signs and he rolled up his bed and carried it to our tent 
for the remainder of the night. The next morning he 
explained. 
"Velly late night time come; me listen — sniff — sniff — 
outside; me ketchum big stick an' go stan' by bacon. 
Bimeby devil, big, allee same like house, stickem in head 
an' han' an' ketchum bacon. Me no stlike, velly big devil." 
"But wherefore the red paper full of holes and the 
punk?" asked Paystreak. 
"Devil him see papel, see holes ; he stop go thlough 
holes, give China boy heap time get away. Devil smel- 
lum punk, make sick. Dlive um 'way." 
"Uh-huh," commented Paystreak; "the punk part is all 
right; devils are not the only ones they make sick." 
"Pete," said Sam, "I never saw a mo' fitten opportunity 
for you to convert a po' benighted heathen to Christianity. 
You an' the Chink take that grizzly's trail; let the Chink 
try to stop him with the red paper and punk, and after 
he's had his chanst you show him how much quicker yo' 
supplication is answered when it is made with the civil- 
izin' 30-40 smokeless of Christian." 
"Not me," replied Pete. "Me an' that Chink hits the 
trail for the station at Palmdale this morning, an' when 
I come back late to-night I will be alone." And he was. 
We did not cease trying to console Pete over the loss 
of his "Pet," until about two weeks later when we all 
went down the mountain to the little post-office station of 
Rio Llano, five miles away on the edge of the desert. We 
did not bother with our burros, as a ten-mile walk is 
nothing. It was warm and we did not want to be both- 
ered with any unnecessary weight, so we left our rifles 
at camp, but Pete took the shotgun, for the spring crop 
of quails was about ripe for broiling. We started early 
one Sunday morning; there had been repeated and ex- 
tended arguments over the respective merits and fighting 
qualities of Japs and Russians and we wanted some news. 
We stayed at the station all day and started back to .camp 
in the cool of the evening. Our way lay up the mountain 
along a narrow trail made by mountain sheep, deer and 
other big game and followed by burro punchers. On our 
right the pine covered mountain towered above us at an 
angle of at least forty-five degrees, while on the left we 
could look down on the tops of tall pines far below us. 
We were in single file, Pete ahead with the shotgun. We 
swung around a sharp point that jutted into the trail and 
the next instant we stopped as though meeting a head- 
end collision. 
"Holly — ," ejaculated Pete; not twenty yards away 
and coming down the trail was a huge, gaunt, silvertip 
grizzly. He let out a snarl and reared, standing taller 
than any of us. The trail was too narrow there for him 
to turn, but we could and we did. We probably broke 
the record for time on that trail, each of us keeping our 
eyes out for a place where we could shin up to the left 
or down into a tree top on the right, the bear after us 
full charge. He might have been looking also for a get- 
away, or he might have been having fun with us, or he 
might have been real angry to find anyone on his trail ; 
we did not stop to argue the point ; we realized that it 
was his trail by right of time and possession and our 
only desire was to leave it the instant opportunity offered, 
and were willing to take a long chance on the oppor- 
tunity. Sam was ahead and found his first, a manzanita 
shrub on the brink which he seized and let himself down 
on a narrow ledge about six fget below. Paystreak was 
next and shinned up a little pine growing alongside a 
huge granite boulder, ten feet or more high on which 
he dropped from a limb with me a "one-two" second. We 
could slide down the rock but it was too steep for man 
or animal to climb. Then we looked for Pete. He car- 
ried the most weight and had the further handicap of 
a ten-bore shotgun. Even as we looked we heard the 
roar of the gun from around the last bend in the trail. 
We had recovered from the — well, shock or surprise, at 
the unexpected meeting; the report of the gun told that 
a partner was in trouble and we hastened to his assist- 
ance. Paystreak and I slid from the rock, and as we pass- 
ed Sam we reached down a helping hand by which he 
climbed back to the trail. We had our hunting knives 
in our belts, and with these in hand we ran to the assist- 
ance of Pete. We found him in close contact with the 
bear — in fact, sitting on the carcass of the brute and try- 
ing to assume an air of nonchalance as he filled his pipe; 
there was no doubt as to his manner being assumed, be- 
sides his face had not regained its right color nor his 
eyes their normal size ; then his voice did not have its 
even steadiness as he said : 
"You fellers put me in mind of Pet; you done just ex- 
actly what he would have done." 
Then he told us how it happened. The bear was hunt- 
ing him close, there was no chance for him to- get away 
so he turned hoping to blind the big beast with the 
charges of fine shot. As he turned, the bear, then hardly 
a length away, reared and opened its great jaws in a 
snarl of rage and victory. Pete saw his opportunity, and 
thrusting forward the gun until the end of the muzzle 
was almost within the gaping red jaws, he fired both 
barrels. The double charge tore into the brain and the 
bear dropped. 
"He ain't got a tooth in his head, and his claws are 
worn down to stumps ; he's so old he couldn't do nothin' 
but run a bluff, but he done that plum proper," said 
Pete. Sam pried open the lean, muscular jaws with a 
stick and said: "Well, I wouldn't hanker to have him 
hug and gum me." E. E. B. 
It is truly remarkable how greatly the sound of ob- 
jects becomes absorbed in these extensive woodless 
plains. No echo answers the voice, and its tones die 
away in boundless and enfeebled undulations. Even 
game will sometimes remain undispersed at the report 
of the gun. Encamping near a small brook, we were 
favored by the usual music of frogs, and among them 
heard a species which almost exactly imitated the low- 
ing of a calf. Just as night commenced, the cheerless 
howling of a distant wolf accosted our ears amid the 
tranquil solitude, and the whole night we were serenaded 
with the vociferations of the two species of whip-poor- 
will. 
The dawn of a cloudy day, after to us a wakeful night, 
was ushered in by the melodious chorus of many 
thousands of birds, agreeably dispersing the solemnity 
of the ambiguous twilight. — Nuttall's Travels into the 
Arkansas Territory, 1819. 
We have no office outside of New York. Address all 
communications to Forest and Stream Publishing Com- 
pany, 346 Broadway, New York. 
The Imitation of Animal Sounds. 
BY LIEUT. COL. , ANDREW HAOGABB., ». S. Y. 
The art of decoying wild animals by imitation of their 
cries is a very primitive one, practiced by savages in all 
countries as a means of procuring food. Many white 
men excel in "calling" animals and birds, notably the 
moose among the larger animals ; but if inquiry could be 
carried far enough it would probably be found that the 
most skillful owe their aptitude in this respect to the 
teachings of untutored savages, whose lives depend upon 
the exercise of. this gift. 
An exception to this origin of the art of calling may, 
perhaps, be found in the art of using the "hare pipe," 
which imitated the voice of the hare. This was em- 
ployed largely in England in mediaeval times and was 
made a penal offense in somewhat more modern days 
when utilized by poachers in the pursuit of their nefari- 
ous occupation. 
A young lad in the wilds of northern Manitoba was 
one of the most remarkable imitators of animals whom 
I ever met. My young friend had been instructed from 
his earliest youth by a Swampy Indian in the art, with 
the result that, at the age of fifteen, he could call any 
tame*or wild animal about the backwoods settlement 
where he lived. His father, he and I used to drive to- 
gether out into the prairie, to- some rushy lagoons in 
search of ducks and geese, which abounded. The ani- 
mals harnessed to the buckboard were mares, each of 
which had a foal, and these foals used, as a rule, to fol- 
low the buckboard, cantering along behind. 
Never shall I forget my astonishment one evening 
when, after having driven a few hundred yards from the 
Hudson Bay Post, his father suddenly stopped the mares, 
saying : "Rae, the foals have stopped behind, call them." 
Instantly the lad commenced whinning exactly like a 
mare. He repeated the cry several times, ending up on 
each occasion with two or three little natural snorts. 
The imitation was so exact that not only were the foals 
deceived, and came galloping up to join us, but it was 
almost impossible to believe that it was not one of the 
mares that had called them. 
One evening when out shooting prairie chicken, night 
fell upon us before we got back to the waggon, to the 
wheels of which we had failed to attach the mares prop- 
erly. One of them we found close by, the other had 
escaped, and, as it was a wet, misty night, not a sign 
of her was to be seen anywhere. Then it was that the 
boy's accomplishment proved most useful, for while his 
father and I remained by the buckboard the youth sallied 
forth into the foggy darkness making a sound to imitate 
the voice of a foal. He was absent for half an hour, but 
returned in triumph with the missing mare. 
The way that boy could also imitate ducks and geese 
was siniply marvellous. Well do I remember a trick he 
played one evening in the reeds. He had joined me, un- 
known to his father, who was standing about fifty yards 
away in the tall rushes, waiting for the wildfowl which 
did not come. Couching down by my side, so that he 
could watch his parent, the mischievous youth several 
times imitated the cry of wild geese; at first only the 
sound of geese at a distance, then he made them seem 
nearer until apparently overhead. The old sportsman 
was instantly on the alert, craning his neck and peering 
in all directions for the fowl. At last, frantic at not 
being able to see them, the old man shouted out to me, 
wildly: "Where are the geese? Where are they?" 
"Here, father!" answered the boy, rising from the 
reeds and bursting into a roar of laughter. 
It was lucky for him that there was, upon that occa- 
sion a deep pool between him and his outraged parent, 
which enabled him to make tracks for home before the 
old boy could get around. 
It was once my lot to come across a native in quite 
another part of the world who possessed similar accom- 
plishments. I cannot say that while he was with me he 
put them to any useful purpose, although he certainly 
afforded occasional variety and amusement during a try- 
ing journey. I was traveling through the Abyssinian 
province of Bogos, with my Egyptian staff officer, an 
English servant, and a body guard of rapscallions who 
called themselves Bashi Bazouks. They were a mixed 
lot — Abyssinians, Beni Amer Arabs, negroes and all 
sorts; and a merry, undisciplined crew they were, indeed. 
The native that I refer to was an Abyssinian, and he was 
the principal wag or buffoon of the crowd. 
The country I was passing through was of the wildest 
description, it was, moreover, full of wild beasts of every 
kind. Apart from the troops of hideous grimacing 
baboons met with on the cliffs of the rocky passes, there 
were everywhere traces of lions, hyenas, wolves and 
jackals, and these animals, some of which we saw daily, 
used to make night hideous with their horrible bowlings. 
My retainer, the Abyssinian, wag, however, was not con- 
tent with letting us be disturbed by the real bowlings of 
the actual wild beasts, for he would have his little joke. 
On several occasions, when we least expected it and were 
marching along in some narrow jungle-clad ravine, the 
whole cavalcade would be stopped by a terrible noise in 
the thorny bushes, which frightened the horses and 
camels, and, at times, even the men. At one time it 
would be a wild dog barking furiously, at another a 
hyena howling or leopard snarling, and upon a third oc- 
casion a sound would be heard as of two jackals fighting 
over a carcass. But nothing could be seen. . It was not 
until I had one day discharged both barrels of my rifle 
mto the thick scrub, and nearly killed him, that I learned 
the cause of these disturbances by my friend, the buffoon, 
roaring out to me in Arabic: "Don't shoot any more. 
Bey," and then emerging with shouts of laughter, in 
which he was joined by all my savage following. Hav- 
ing discovered this man's wonderful talent for mimick- 
ing animals, I determined to employ him in a little joke 
of my own, merely" as an act of retributive justice. 
. Upon one occasion, when we were lying on the sandy 
bed of a ravine, a Hon had come roaring around my 
bivouac at night, when the conduct of my Egyptian staff 
officer, who always talked very big about lions, had not 
been remarkably courageous. 
There was not a man among my Bashi Bazouks who 
did not laugh at Major Mustapha Effendi Ramzie, but 
his boasting was incorrigible. I therefore determined to 
give him a lesson that night when lying on the sand in 
the Khor Ansaba, which, as he well knew, was a famous 
