FOREST AND STREAM. 
287 
decide the question nr to that rational shooting would 
cause the ducks ever tf) become extinct, gave a long 
dissertation. , r j 
He knew this, however, that ducks were to be lounu 
if the hunter went to them, and in large numbers, as 
observations made that day attested. In all the earlier 
history of the West and particularly of this which was 
a part of what was then known as the Great American 
Desert, he was unable to find recorded that ducks were 
even numerous in the locality. The great river valleys 
mentioned as being alive with wildfowl twenty-five years 
earlier have undergone gradually a physical change that 
is almost beyond belief. Where then stood thousands of 
acres of virgin forest, with its attractive mast, the same 
number, of acres of corn are found now. The marshes, 
hundreds of them, have been drained. The prairie ponds 
that were once scattered all through the north central 
part of the country have disappeared, and the few re- 
maining natural marshes are trampled by cattle and 
rooted by swine, and the bottoms are continually plowed 
by the prolific carp until it is little wonder a self-respect- 
ing flock of waterfowl is seldom if ever seen there. 
Did he believe in game protection? Certainly, and to 
the extent of making it comprehensive, too._ Little use 
is there in restraining the gunner if you continually ditch 
every slough or lake and cut out the forest. These aie 
things to be considered as well as the persistent shooter 
who is dead sure, sooner or later, to overshoot the limit 
and be registered as a “game hog” number so and so 
by some crank too narrow to judge a sportsman or a pet 
hunter. Show me a hunter who bags ducks at less than 
a dollar apiece and I will show you an artist, an expert, 
who will hardly be influenced by sentiment. For if you 
analyze him, you will likely find he has thousands of 
birds to his credit (at $i per) and is after a partial set- 
tlement. , TTr 
“In my opinion the birds have shifted to the West, 
where conditions are more nearly normal, and can still 
be found plentiful if sportsmen will stand the expense, 
time and trouble.” , . 
At this point the speaker discovered that his audience 
was sound* asleep, and he proceeded to “douse the glim” 
and join them. 
Next morning we started to make camp permanent, 
and after a good breakfast set about digging away the 
sand on one side of a towhead until we had a space large 
enough for the team to stand in; and with some willows 
and a couple of tent poles rigged up with the aid of 
pieces of canvas and rice stalks quite a decent shelter for 
the horses. With the Sibley tent brought from Anson s 
well staked we proceeded to bank the walls with dry 
sand, digging a trench around it a foot deep. 
The sheet-iron heater, which makes these tents about 
as comfortable as one could wish, even in severe weather, 
was next set up, and with a little more arranging of the 
beds and supplies, we had completed the finest camp we 
had ever built. What pleased us not a little was that we 
were no longer in danger of the dreaded fire, and had the 
assurance when returning tired from a hard day s hunt 
of a comfortable resting place, even in this wilderness 
of grassy sand hills. 
Everything in order, we hitched up the team and were 
just ready to start on a hunt when a horseman appeared 
coming over the hill. We delayed starting until he should 
pass or make known his business, as it was our custom 
to leave camp unguarded for a whole day quite often. 
As the rider neared us we could see he was an Indian, 
wearing one of Uncle Sam’s regulation blue overcoats 
and the usual brown hat with the brim drooping front 
and back, his hair hanging in a braid behind either ear. 
The coming of an Indian to our camp was unusual, as 
in all previous trips we had never but once encountered 
Indians. He rode directly to us pd made his business 
known with no delay, handing Bill a folded paper and 
at the same time laying his carbine, which he drew from 
the holster, across the pummel of his army saddle ready 
for action. Not a word passed but the usual Indian 
“How” by way of salutation. 
The paper, which proved to be a message from the 
Agency, read as follows ; 
“To the party of hunters camped on Hoy Creek, north 
of Big Alkali Lake: You are hereby notified to at once 
leave the reservation. The bearer of this message, a 
member of the Indian police, has orders to escort you to 
the boundary, between your camp and C_., or to arrest you 
if you refuse to vacate. , Indian Agent.” 
There was no mistaking the tone of the message, but 
as we held a permit from this same agent, we were in- 
clined to know why we were to be put off the reserva- 
tion before we had' really arrived and settled. 
“Why does the agent send this message?” inquired 
Bill, who has a peculiar faculty for handling Indians. 
“White man start grass fire; no have pass to Indians’ 
land,” answered the Indian. 
‘“We did not start the fire, and we hold a permit to 
hunt on this reservation,” exclaimed Bill, rather warmly, 
pulling the paper from his coat, which was still legible in 
’ spite of the soaking it had the day before, and handing 
it to the Indian. 
He seemed to regard it as genuine, though hardly able 
to read, and he was evidently disappointed. 
We then explained that we were caught by the fire at 
that point and had no great trouble in convincing him 
that the fire came from further up than our camp. 
“When you come here?” he asked. 
“Half hour before fire,” answered Bill. 
Without delay he replaced the carbine in its case and 
grunted, “Uh. much damn fool up creek,” and digging 
his heels into the ribs of his pony, away he flew to locate 
the “sports,” who had gone in the day before our ar- 
rival without permit or a regard for certain formalities 
which must be observed even in this unsettled grassy 
waste. 
After the departure of the “police” we were not long 
in arriving at the slough end of Big Alkali, and having 
placed fifty decoys, which bobbed and drifted in the 
breeze, we took our stations. 
It was here that the excitement of some grand mallard 
shooting held us for the greater part of the afternoon, 
which contributed to the putting out of mind every care 
or thought of business, civilization or anything in fact 
but the glorious sport of duck shooting. 
With light winds and bright skies we were permitted 
to “strain” our guns at flocks of high-flying mallards, 
which needed “leading” from six to ten feet in order to 
get results. Occasionally a strong-flying greenhead 
would fall with broken wing, fighting every inch of its 
rapid descent, striking the water with a crash and a splash 
of silvery spray. r-u 
“Soak him, Lanie,” some one shouts; and you finish 
him with the other barrel. Then with a leap the re- 
triever, which has been watching every move, swims out 
and fetches the great bird. Or again, shot through tne 
neck, stone dead in the air, the bird falls like a meteor 
so close to your boat that the great splash drenches you, 
and your companion down the slough yells. Good eyes, 
old boy.” • j i • 
If such pictures, which are rarely painted, are not in- 
teresting enough, let the reader sit with one us a 
moment while an immense flock of canvasbacks whirl out 
of the heavens pell-mell_ for the decoys, _ while every 
shooter is crouching rigid, knowing that if i,o^ mistake 
is made the reward for a well placed shot will ee one 
or perhaps two of the “kings of the air” and the duck 
family. . . , . . 
On they come, cutting the air with their trim, strong 
wings, and as they “rubber” at the decoys every shooter s 
heart pounds with exci'.ement; they wheel and arch their 
wings, feet extended ready to resist the contact with the 
water, their chestnut colored heads glistening in the sun- 
light as they stretch their long necks low toward the 
water. 
Who could wait another second unless to let the birds 
actually light? Not we. We fire into them, and again 
as they tower, frightened, until out of reach of the dead- 
ly guns, and we quickl}^ load and finish the wounded, 
when five still or kicking bodies lay floating among the 
decoys. 
We had not killed nearly the limit allowed by law, the 
day was not a typical duck day, being far too bright and 
warm, but we had used many shells, and our shoulders 
were beginning to feel the effects of them. So when some 
one suggested, “Sufficient for the day is the sport there- 
of,” we pushed our boats back to shore where the wagon 
awaited us. 
Whoever sat down to a better supper or had a better 
appetite than we that evening? Indeed, if broiled jack 
snipe, baked potatoes, celery, cornbread_ and molasses 
and coffee were not enough to satisfy us it was complete 
when afterward we lighted our pipes and gathered about 
the heater, which roared as it consumed the corncob fuel. 
Amid the wreaths of smoke we sat and talked, and 
George, the sage of Honey Creek, coined a phrase as he 
rolled up in his blanket and remarked : “A toiler dies 
once every day — a dreamer or a duck shooter never.” 
And in two minutes he was dead to the world, but still 
chasing snakes and skunks in his slumbers. 
When we awoke in the morning it was to find the 
north wind driving snow and sleet — an ideal duck day. 
We moved down to the boats to the music of the wind 
as it moaned, flute-like, in the gun barrels, and the sleet 
rattled on our mackintoshes. How the ducks were flying. 
Great flocks just arriving from the north would pitch 
into the- marsh unmindful of cracking guns, determined 
to light regardless of peril. 
Bob and Bill, who had drifted far down the large 
marsh keeping the boat under cover as much as possible, 
had some splendid shooting, as the mass of dead ducks 
in the boat could testify. 
About lo o’clock, when more than a mile below camp, 
they were attracted by continual yelling from a point still 
farther down the slough and decided to investigate. 
Pulling around a point of flags and rice they discovered 
standing in the open water up to their armpits two hunt- 
ers, who, when they saw the boat, began calling for help. 
Hastily pulling up to them they found they were friends 
from Omaha who were staying at Anson’s, and who were 
not known to be in the country. They were nearly 
frozen and in no humor to even explain matters. Their 
one desire was to get out of the eold water, and as the 
boat drifted up one of them lost no time in scrambling 
into it, and in doing so shipped a large amount of water. 
Bob was doubtful if our boat would carry the whole 
party, but it was cruel to leave them there a moment 
longer, so with a little coaching and a little more care 
than his companion had used in boarding, the second 
victim finally succeeded in getting in, the reseuing boat 
sinking down to the gunwales. 
Just as the oars were about to be used, the oarsman 
seemed to “catch a crab,” as the blade popped out of the 
water and seemed to be glancing off of something. It 
was discovered that the metal (non-sinkable) boat that 
had swamped had decided, its load relieved, to come off 
the bottom and return to the surface. 'With the catching 
of the crab and a particularly large wave which struck 
the rescuing boat at about the same time and shipping 
another small “sea,” down it went as gently as a fish, 
and four men were standing up to their necks in the ice 
water. 
The look of despair on the faces of the rescued and 
the alarm of the rescuers must indeed have been pathetic. 
No man could wade to shore; the bottoms of these lakes 
are of mud the consistency of quicksand. 
There lay “Old Ironsides,” whieh had caused the 
trouble, behaving like a submarine, the deck over the air 
chambers fore and aft a little above the surface. Some- 
thing must be done, and quickly, too, for two of the 
party had been in the water nearly an hour, so drawing 
up the metal boat we started with our hats to bail her 
out, which was slow work. Bob was known to smile as 
the boat gradually rose, had he dared laugh at that time, 
as he did later and does to this day, the rest would cer- 
tainly have finished him up and left . him there. 
With the water out of her the mHal craft rode the 
waves like a duck, and soon two of the party and the 
guns were sailing shoreward in it as fast as oars and a 
chilly oarsman could pull it. Then back for another load, 
and finally with the chain of the sunken boat attached 
they dragged her off the bottom and slowly to shore. 
Then laying the guns on the ground together with the 
heavy drenehed clothing — they never stopped to recover 
nearly a hundred ducks that had drifted away from the 
two boats — ^they raced for camp, which was a good two 
miles. _ 'I* 
With the heater about to burst with fuel, and a quart 
of Old Crow where it would do the most good, we de- 
cided that Bob had a perfect right to laugh. We also 
commended him when he determined that he would have 
that bag of ducks which had drifted away. He was soon 
on the way with the driver and team to- bring back the 
deserted guns and clothing. . r 
Would this sort of thing go on for a month? Surely, 
rith situations and all equally interesting interspersed 
w 
with days of loafing, card playing, feasting and sleeping 
until when finally camp is struck and our “private car” 
is switched out and attached to a stock train, we bowl 
homeward, bruised, burned, tanned, hungry continually, 
happy, and in a few months are uneasy to be back again 
to the land of the Indian, with its lakes and hills, purest 
of air, game in abundance, and a charm for the sports- 
man that cannot be described. Bill. 
My First Camp, 
Year after year, from the time I was big enougff to 
handle an air rifle and a six-foot fishing pole, the Idesire 
to “rough it,” to live in the woods in a tent, began to 
grow on me. And year after year that desire was nour- 
ished by an anticipation many times to be blasted by the 
upsetting of my plans. All through the winter I colHcted 
catalogues from the many sportsman’s supply houses and 
looked them through and through, planning and dream- 
ing as I sat before the glowing hearth, of camp life never 
yet realized. I could see the group gathered around’ the 
crackling flames of the yarn-breeding camp-fire, its blaze 
reflecting in their faces, giving a cast of romance to the 
whole scene ; the tent in its whiteness contrasting, with 
the black shadows that lurked in the surrounding forest, 
and the uncertain reflection of the unlit sky on the silent 
lake. It was almost realization as thoughts developed 'and 
surroundings fell away. But the bed hour came arid that 
trash — the catalogues- — must be put away and carefully, 
too, or some time it would add fuel to- the hearth fire 
which so stimulated my wide-awake dreams. 
Books on camping and camp life, by those who have 
enjoyed its freedom and met its hardships, added greatly 
to my desire. Unfortunately my health was not good, 
and although such an outing might ^ve proved (bene- 
ficial, my parents considered the experiment a very risky 
one, and my school chums camped without me. Public 
school days passed and the long summer vacation^nar- 
rowed down to a short two weeks. From bad to worse 
I enlisted in the drug business with the idea of mastering 
the profession, and even my winter evenings’ dreams had 
to be given up for long wearisome hours behirid the 
counter. I felt caged in forever. Three years '^with 
scarce a vacation followed, a day now and then, bfit no 
chance to put in practice my ideas. At last, in August, 
1904, I grew desperate and went so far as to give up my 
position in order to have two weeks’ outing. I was' well 
acquainted with the many' little lakes of the country in 
which I was then staying, and chose for my purposes a 
quiet retreat on the eastern shore of Lake Wildwood, a 
pretty little sheet of water situated near the top of the 
Hamburg Mountains in northern New Jersey. The lake 
is too small to suit most campers, and “society,” which 
some seek even in remote parts, is at that place' ah' un- 
known feature. . , 
Before starting it v, as necessary to devote almost a 
week to getting ready an outfit and finding a companion. 
Most of my friends had been away on their outing and 
those who had not were already tired of camp liffi! It 
might be enjoyed with a paid cook and an expensive put- 
fit, but they had fought over the questions who should 
cook to-day, whose turn was jt to get the watef, who 
came next in line among the dishwashers, and other im- 
portant and non-important matters. They had feasted 
one day and starved ihe next. Sometimes each was 
obliged to search the hrder for himself when meal' time 
cairie. “Yes,” said they, “it sounds all very well, but when 
one has wasted several vacations trying to enjoy himself 
in a camp of ‘scrappy’ fellows he becomes quite satisfied 
with less freedom in order to get more true rest”’ At 
last a friend much younger than myself and equally in- 
experienced in the ways of the woods, heard that I 
wished a mate and exnressed to me his desire to go alSng. 
He had always been anxious to tent, so having known 
him for some time as a generous, willing fellow I was 
only too glad to close a bargain with him at once. 
All was settled that \. e were to start on Tuesday, the 
i6th. A ten by tweho tent had been borrowed— not a 
very favorable looking shelter, but shelter nevertheless. 
A small rowboat and a fourteen-foot canvas 'canoe, 
which I had just finished, were to furnish us means of 
navigation on the lake. We selected what few kitchen 
utensils we thought we could get along with aridjpur- 
chased provisions to last us two weeks. _We found a 
small cot not in use that we thought would be all the bed 
necessary, so added it with several blankets to out Outfit 
and we were ready to start. ; 
It was a rough looking load that started up the irio-un- 
tain in the sultry heat of an August mid-day sun. The 
load was light enough but remarkably shapeless. Each 
article seemed to rest cn a single point and jog and twist 
violently at the least irregularity in the road. Myycom- 
panion and myself trudged on behind all up that'tpiEome 
climb, watching through the thick dust lest any ;pf our 
baggage fall out behind. It is well we did watc:h,:too, 
for suit-case, pot and ax took turns in seeking a ‘quiet 
resting place in the road. The gallon of kerosene became 
so troublesome that we were obliged to carry it td save 
other articles from ruin, and the butter, m the extreme 
heat, grew so anxious to run that we turned it loose 
along the road side. 
Three hours of climb interrupted by frequent halts m 
order to rest the team and tighten the stay ropes had been 
accomplished before we drew rein on the eastern shore of 
Lake Wildwood. There in a clear spot surrounded by 
evergreens and oaks intermixed we proceeded to unload. 
The situation proved ideal. A broad slab of rock made 
a very desirable entrance to tlfe tent and led down a few 
rods to where it projected a short distance into the lake, 
making a very attractive and convenient natural-' Janding. 
Here we launched the boat in the cool wati^S. longing 
ourselves for a refreshing dip, but immediately returning 
