SePI. 2, 1905.3 
FOREST AND STREAM 
187 
This boat was what \vould be called a tramp now. She 
went w'herever she could get a cargo that paid. About 
the first of September we took on a load of Government 
stores at St. Louis to be taken to Fort Snelling, m 
Minnesota Territory it was then, and took these stores 
up to St. Paul. Here the captain concluded to tie up 
for the winter. . It was rather early yet to quit, I thought, 
but then I was not the captain, only the cabin boy. 
captain owned two-thirds of the boat himself, arid his 
probable reason for tying up here was that he did not 
want to winter at St. Louis. I could not blame him. 
Since then I have seen numbers of fine boats torn away 
from their landings there and crushed like eggshells when 
the ice came down in the spring. 
The crew was paid off and all left except the watch- 
man. I was in the West now, and likely to stay there or 
else walk home. The railroads had not got quite up to 
St. Paul yet, or I might have “jumped a freight. _ 1 
probably would have done it. Th© watchman was anxious 
to keep me with him, and the captain told him to do so, 
then said to me: “Lou stick to my boat, Johnny, and 
when you get old enough I will make you a mate. 
“I am afraid I could never learn to swear hard enough, 
sir, for a mate;” I told him. 
“Oh, yes, you can. You can do your share of swearing 
now. I have heard you at it when things did not^suit 
you. Stay here and Lll ship you in the spring again. 
St. Paul at that time was only a small town, hardly 
more than a trading post. Governor Ramsey, the fiist 
Governor of the Territory, was the great man here; he 
lived here. I was' still stopping on the boat, when one 
day I went up town t0‘ see some Indians_ that had come 
in to trade. They were the Dacotas, or Sioux, as we call 
them. They calf themselves Dacotas, and they were the 
first wild Indians I had ever seen. 
While I was looking at them here a young man came 
up and began to question me, and after I had told him 
where I had come from, how I had come from there 
here, and how anxious I was now to go somewhere else, 
he offered me a job driving a wagon for him, then told 
me about himself, telling me that there were four of 
them and that they meant to remain out here a year 
hunting. . 
That suited me. I was willing to remain out here two 
years hunting, and closed the contract with him righf 
then, though I expected now to be frozen half to death 
this winter, I had heard so much about this cold country 
up here, but thought that if these young men could stand 
it I could. As it afterward turned out, we camped out 
all winter, and I did not suffer any more from cold 
weather here than I would have done at home. 
These men were all gentlemen’s sons, what was still 
better as far as it concerned me they were all gentlemen 
themselves and always treated me well. They were stop- 
ping at the hotel here. It would have been a tavern far- 
ther East, and in a day or two after I joined them we ,got 
ready to go on the hunt, or rather continue it, as these 
men had been hunting out here since last July, they told 
me. They had four very good saddle horses and two 
heavy ones that hauled my wagon. The wagon was a 
stout farm wagon nearly new, it had only been in u^e 
since last July, and we had it loaded up to the cover. It 
carried our camp outfit, tents, baggage, supplies— a big 
lot of them — and what forage we could find room for. 
We had not room for much of it, but until we had left 
the last settler behind us they bought more from time to 
time. 
These men had been driving the wagon turn about, but 
wanted a boy to do the driving. I might have done that 
and nothing else had I felt inclined to shirk my work. 
These men would never order me to do anything. I was 
only a boy, but I did my full share of all that had to be 
done in camp. I was anxious to keep this job, these men 
were going now to the country I wanted to see so bad 
a part of that Great American Desert. They had plenty 
of firearms, rifles and shotguns. All guns then were 
muzzle-loaders, of course, and they let me use these guns 
whenever 1 wanted them. I knew how^ to use them , I 
had been using guns ever since I was able to hold one up 
to my shoulder, and had owned a boy’s shotgun for sev- 
eral years now ; it was a cheap affair and about as safe 
as a section of gas pipe would be, but I did not know 
that then, and I kept it going, in season and out of sea- 
son. We had no game wardens then, and I could kill 
rabbits in January or July, and it took all my pocket 
money for powder and caps. I dispensed with shot, 
using slugs instead, they cost me nothing but the labor of 
making them. 1 
Each of the men of the party carried an old style Colt s 
dragoon pistol. They were heavy rough affairs, or would 
be now. They were all right then. There were two of 
these pistols in the wagon; they were- extra. I got o^e 
of them and put it on a belt and it went wherever I did ; 
I would not go 100 yards from camp without it. My 
carrying this pistol was one of the standing jokes m 
camp. The men were continually asking me what 1 
meant to shoot with it, and I always said a bear. I was 
always looking for that bear, and at last I found him, or 
he found me; I have never been able to determine ex- 
actly which of us it was that found the other ; all I know 
is it would have been better for the bear had we not 
found each other. 
When we left St. Paul we traveled about southwest 
for a while, going only a short drive each day, then 
camping, and if we found a good camp for grass often 
stopping there several days. The party was not in a 
hurry to go anywhere and took good care of the horses. 
We found settlers here for a while after leaving St. 
Paul, and when we did we would stock up with forage 
and any supplies we could get. We knew that farther 
west we w'ould not have much chance to get any, the 
country there then had no settlers, though they were 
coming in now. We had been out some time and had 
got west of where Stillwater now is, when one morning 
we moved camp a few miles to a place where the men 
had been when out hunting the day before. We got into 
the new camp at about 10 o’clock, and made camp to re- 
main a few days at least. - , , , 
This camp was in a wide bottom that had a good crop 
of grass, and there was a small swamp that seemed to be 
fed by a spring up on the bank above us. The place had 
been used as a camp by Indians the summer before. 
Their wickiups, small brush lodges, stood here yet in 
every direction. I used them later on for fire wood. 
Just behind camp was a low ridge that ran up and back 
200 yards, and behind it was a rather high hill. The ridge 
was closely covered with bushes, and a narrow path led 
through them ; it began j ust at camp and led to the 
spring; I thought the squaws had probably made it. bo 
as soon as we had got our tents up 1 took a tin bucket 
and started to find the .spring, the swamp water was not 
fit to use. I found the spring at the foot of this high hill, 
the path led to it as I had thought it would. I carried 
down several buckets of water while one of the men got 
our dinner ready. 
In the evening after supper, when we were all semea 
around camp the men were telling about what each had 
seen to-day, they had hunted each one by himself. One 
said that he had run across bear tracks not far from 
camp, and judging by the size of the tracks the bear that 
made' them must be as big as an ox. He meant to hunt 
up that bear in the morning; it had been too late to do 
it to-night after he had found the tracks, he said, these 
men were continually finding bear tracks, always some- 
where near camp, then sending me out with a double- 
barreled shotgun to thrash around through_ bushes for an 
hour hunting bears while they stayed in camp 
laughed at me, so I thought that this was only another 
bear for me to hunt to-morrow, and paid but little atten- 
tion to the story. 
I got up now to go and get a bucket of water before 
it had got to be any later; it was almost too late now, 
it was. getting dark in among those bushes up on the hill. 
Strapping on my pistol I took the tin bucket and threw 
a tincup into it, when Mr. Remington, our leader, says: 
“You have water here, have you not,_ Johnny? I would 
not go after any more. Let it go until morning.’’ 
“I have more time now, sir. I had better get it now.^^ 
“But it is getting late, and that bear may be up ^ there. 
“If he is I will sicken him, sir. I want a bear.” 
“Now, see here, Johnny, this man who had seen, the 
tracks told me if that bear is up there you let him go, 
he is my bear, I don’t want him shot ; I mean to hunt him 
myself to-morrow.” . , 
“Yes, sir; then if I see him I’ll tell him so, and send 
him down here; then you can hunt him to-night.’’ _ 
After I had got part of the way up the path I fourid it 
to be so dark in here that I was more than half inclined 
to go back and wait until morning, but if I did the men 
would laugh at me, so I kept on. , 
I had got about two-thirds of the way up, and just 
ahead of me about thirty yards the path made a sharp 
turn to the left; the spring was about thirty yards more 
beyond the turn. Just now some animal came around 
this turn, I could see the bushes sway as he forced his 
way through them; this path had not been made wide 
enough for him. It was so dark near the ground that I 
could barely see him, but he looked to be as big as a 
horse. 
The bear story flashed across, my mind, and I let go 
of the bucket and it dropped on the rocks, the tincup in 
it making a terrible racket. The bear got on his hind legs 
and his head reached clear above the bushes. I could see 
it plainly against the sky. My first thought was to give 
a yell, then run, but I thought that if I did then the bear 
would j ust grab me and eat me up. I did not know as 
much about black bears then as I do now. Had I run he 
would not have followed me a foot; he was as badly 
scared as I was. He could not have been worse scared, 
though. Since then I have hunted bears and killed them, 
and hunted otners and lost them, but never had one of 
them try to hunt me. The male will fight nothing unless 
he is cornered or thinks he is, for his size he is_ the most 
cowardly animal on the footstool. The female, if_ she has 
a cub following her, and she generally has, will often 
put up a fight; but I have met one that ran and left her 
cub the moment I fired at her. I took her cub alive, then 
hid myself and waited all forenoon for her to come look- 
ing for him. She did not come. 
I did not run, but hauling out the old pistol raised my 
left arm in front of my face for a rest, as though I were 
firing at a target, then raising the hammer took steady 
aim at his head and fired, then fired again, and had just 
fired the third shot when the bear fell with a crash, tear- 
ing down the bushes as he struck them. I have him now, 
I thought, but kept on firing until my pistol was empty. 
By this time all the men were up here. 
•‘What are you firing at?” Mr. Remington asked me. 
“At a bear, I think, sir. Whatever it is it is lying up 
there in the path ; I killed it.” 
They could not see it now, nor could I, and I knew 
where to look for it, but the bushes were down there, the 
bear had not got away. Drawing his pistpl, Remington 
walked up there, then called out, “Yes, it is a bear, and 
the largest one this side of sunset, too.” 
The other men who still stood here began to laugh; 
they thought I had been firing at a bush, of course, and 
that Remington was keeping up the joke. 
“Come up here, you fellows,” he told them, and see 
if you can find anything to laugh at here.” 
We all went up now. The bear was lying across the 
path, his head and shoulders on top of the bushes he had 
broken down when he fell, while his hindquarters were 
shoved in among the bushes on the other side of the path. 
He may not have been the largest one in this country, 
but I have seen quite a number since then and never have 
seen one that was much more than half his size. 
They dragged him around so as to get him into the 
path, or as much of him in it as the path would hold. 
He still lay on top of the bushes on either side. Then, 
after we had examined him I went and got my bucket to 
go after the water. When I came up to them again Mr. 
• Remington asked me if my pistol was empty. 
“Yes, sir,” I told him, “I gave him the whole six while 
I happened to think of it.” 
He handed his pistol to me, taking mine and saying: 
“Carry mine until I get time to load yours.” 
I remained with these men until late the following 
summer, but never after this heard any funny remarks 
about carrying a pistol, nor_ was I ever sent out again 
to hunt imaginary bears with a shotgun, loaded with 
No. 8 shot probably. I had found my bear now and 
killed him. 
After I came back from the spring, we went down and 
moved some of the horses that were staked out nearest 
the fire further back, so that they would not see the-bear 
when we brought him down. Then we got the bear 
down, and it took the whole five of us nearly an hour to 
do it. Then while I kept dragging in brush from the 
wickiups and piling it on the fire to make a light, the 
men got the skin off, and I had a chance to see where I 
had hit him. 03 ie of my shots, the first one, I think, had 
talcen him just below the left ear and had passed out at 
the top of his head. Another had gone in at his breast 
and missing his heart by less than an inch' had buried 
itself in his backbone, going nearly through it. 1 he other 
four shots were all misses, they had all been fired after, 
he fell, as he was falling when I fired the third shot. 
I had heard of the ability of these bears to carry away 
half a ton of lead; this one had got about two ounces 
then lay down with them. He was very fat, and I 
thought from his size that he must be very old ; but Mn 
Remington said that he was not over four years old, and 
he knew, as he was a surgeon by profession. When the 
skin was off Mr. Remington asked me what I meant to 
do with it. 
“You can have it,” I told him. “I don’t want it.” They, 
all wanted it now. 
“We will settle this,” Remington said. “I’ll sell it, and 
the highest bidder takes it ; the boy takes the money. 
But remember, gentlemen, that whoever does get it is 
going to> pay about all that the skin is worth for it. I 
want the ’ooy to get paid for his bear. Start it up now.” 
Thev started it at $5 and ran it up by bids of $i and $2 
to $45, only three of tliem bidding on it so far, Mr. Rem- 
ington had not bid at all yet, then they stopped. “Well, 
go on,” he told them. 
No, they were waiting to hear from him now, they 
said. “Fifty for me then. Go on now.” No, he could 
have it, they were through. 
I heard them say afterward that they might have sat 
and bid there all night, he would have had the skin in 
the morning. He offered me the money now. 
“No, sir,” I told him, “keep it for me. I don’t want it 
until we go home.” 
This Mr. Remington was the oldest man in the party, 
though he was only twenty-six, none of the rest were 
over twenty-two. He and they had all been through col- 
lege and he had studied medicine since and was a good 
surgeon, and a geologist. He taught me nearly all I 
know about our rocks and their age. He and the others 
would sit for hours around the fire at night talking about 
the early races in this country, the mounds and their 
iDuilders, where our present Indians had come from, these 
mountains and valleys here, how and when they had been 
formed, and about our planets and whether or not they 
were inhabited. Remington claimed that most if not all 
of them were inhabited, and his arguments went far to 
convince me that they are. I could understand most sub- 
jects that they argued about, I had read about them my- 
self. Remington had got up this expedition himself, the 
others were hig guests ; but when we came to stock up 
from time to time, they always insisted on paying their 
We stretched the hide next morning and a Jew hours 
afterward a small party of Sioux, three families, came 
along, and finding us in camp, went into camp themselves 
close by. We gave them some flour, cornmeal, coffee and 
sugar, and the squaws, taking the hide, tanned it, and I 
afterward saw Mr. Remington refuse $100 for it on our 
way home. It was not worth it, though. He probably 
paid me more in the first place than it really was worth ; 
but he wanted it and could afford to keep it. 
We tried cooking bear steaks, but I did not like them 
and never have been able since to cook bear meat to suit 
me. The men did not care for it, so I jet the squaws 
have it, and the Indians soon got rid of it all. 
Cabia Blanco. 
Note tO' the Editor.— Tht Gatling gun that I lugged 
around with me on this expedition I had always sup- 
posed to be a Colt’s ‘‘Texas Ranger,” but when I was 
stringing the rough notes for this story together, a man 
who claimed to be pcsted on dates, told me that I was 
away off, that Colt had not invented his pistol then. As 
I did not want to kill a bear with a pistol that had not 
been invented yet, and make a fool of myself at the same 
time, I wrote to the Army and Navy Journal to find out 
and was told that the first Colt pistol called the “Texas 
model” had been put on the market in 1838. That set- 
tles that. I shot him with a Colt after all. Mine was 
not as neat as some of Colt’s productions that I have 
since carried, but it was no doubt an improvement on 
their model of 1838; that model had seen daylight just a 
year ahead of me, and Colonel Colt had not been asleep 
since then I suppose, I had had an intimate acquaint- 
ance with Allen’s “pepper box,” and had just missed 
shooting myself by about half an inch with one of them 
a year before I formed part of this expedition, but I had 
never had a Colt’s before this.— C. B. 
[The conclusion of the hunt will be told next week.] 
Selling Adirondack State Lands. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
The administration of the Adirondack forest lands has 
always been sufficiently amazing, as anyone knows who 
read the newspapers during the time when Middleton 
was being turned out of the Forest Commission of New 
York. People read without surprise, but with much 
indignation, about the way in which Adirondack State 
lands were being skinr.ed by thieves in the pulp and lum- 
ber business. That the State allowed the thieves to keep 
the pulp after 20 or 30 cents per cord had been collected 
in “fines.” Now the State is going to charge $2 per cord, 
apparently, for that is what the State is suing for. .The 
fact that pulp wood is worth $4 a cord, and that no puni- 
tive fine is collected, as a rule, is interesting to the casual 
t*c 3 .(lcr ^ 
But 'while we all knew that timber was being stolen, 
and that a man who tried to stop it was “marked” by the 
rascals, it was supposed that the land itself wouldn’t be 
stolen, for the State Constitution forbids that. It was 
believed to forbid the sale of State forest lands also ; but 
these things seem to have been charming fancies for the 
pleasure of those who may die before they are enlight- 
ened as to the real facts of the case. 
Above Northwood, Herkimer county, is the old Hatter 
place, one that is famous among backwoodsmen of that 
locality because of ruffed grouse in the hardwood growth 
on the hillside, and because of the woodcock in the alder 
beds on the flats. Ducks are killed every year in the 
coves, or bayous, on part of it, and a runway through the 
open iot is passed by deer several times a -week. ’ 
A good interesting piece of land is this old Hatter 
