340 
FOREST AND STREAM 
“Any man would come off second best to-day who fore- 
swore anything but the imported article," said his cousin, 
quietly replacing his “shoulder pistol.’'' "Halloa!” lie ex- 
claimed suddenly, “I hear the dogs again over towards the 
creek, and they've collared no fifty pounder this time." 
Away all three dart again through the thick flax and over 
the uncertain ground toward the same; a steady, coutinous 
baying indicates that the quarry is too powerful to be easily 
moved, and that some sport is in prospect. 
“Look out, now, boys!” cries Phil, as they approach the 
scene of action, “this fellow is no chicken, and if he 
comes you'd better clear out of his road." The riflemen 
advance cautiously, with their rifles full cocked, Wallic 
judiciously keeping the rear. So thick, however, is the 
flax that nothing can bo seen of either dogs or boar; but an 
occasional short, savage rush, followed by a temporary re- 
treat on the part of the former, show that the quarry’s 
patience is about exhausted, while the ominous angry 
champ of his tusks, heard occasionally duriug a lull, indi- 
cate that he is not a foe to be trifled with. 
“We must get him out of there somehow," shouts Wal, 
excitedly, “or we shan't 9ee the color of his hide in a 
week,” and in he rushes boldly, beating and perforating 
the flax with his mighty staff from the side opposite to the 
dogs. 
“Have a care, Wal, old man,” exclaims Fred. “Look 
out, boys, there he goes!” lie continues, as a confused 
scuffling among the dogs, a crashing through the flax, and 
the streak of a dark body seen for an instant show that the 
game is started. 
“By George! he’s a boomer!” crie9 Phil. “I’m glad the 
brute did’nt come my way; he might be between u man’s 
legs here before he knew it— there, they have him again.” 
The big boar seldom condescends to run fast or far; con- 
fident in his defensive powers he soon comes to bay again. 
“This looks like better ground,” says Phil, as they again 
come up with the combatants; round a lofty, isolated 
bunch of flax the dogs, now pretty well out of breath, are 
baying. Ten or a dozen yards of clear ground extend be- 
tween it and the thick bush; but our quarry is entirely 
concealed by its friendly foliage, and his whereabouts can 
only be approximately conjectured by the movements of 
the dogs, and the sullen champ that issues from the recess- 
es of his retreat. 
“Hold him, boys! hold him!" “Put him out!” variously 
exhort the hunters; but the dogs won’t go in, knowing 
very well thut they can’t reach him behind, and that his 
sharp little eye, backed by those terrible gnashing tusks, 
is watching the front. 
“I must try what I can do with the ’great orgin’ again, 
says Wal, “or we'll never get a shot at the brute- If he'd 
only run down into the creek now,” with which as- 
piration the stubborn speursman advances again, boldly, 
yet cautiously, on the spot where the boar ought to he. 
Fred and Phil plant themselves on the edge of the clearing, 
so as to cover between them as much of it as possible. 
Wal’s uplifted weapon gleams for a moment in the sun- 
light and then disappears into the very centre of the clump 
of flax. A savage grunt, qualified with a sort of smoth- 
ered squeal, shows that the good bla^e has hit the mark; 
and with a dash at the dogs, the old boar issues from bis 
retreat. Surrounded though he knows himself to be by 
enemies on every side, he is quite prepared to fight them 
all; but he must have something to set his back against, so 
he scuttles across the little clearing with more speed than 
usual. Not so quick, however, but that Phil gets a flying 
shot at him, which, breaking his shoulder, brings him to 
his knees for a second before he is lost again in the flax. 
“Come on, boys; he’s badly hit and making for the 
creek," cries Phil, hastily reloading his rifle — a short En- 
field muzzle loader. 
Down the hill they all dash, following the harsh, omin- 
ous bounds of the running fight, and again they come up 
with their exhausted quarry, this time in comparatively 
open ground; but the old warrior has no intention of 
yielding his life without a struggle, and has taken up a po- 
sition which is impregnable by anything short of powder 
aud lead. Down the steep bank of the creek, tangled and 
obscured by a thousand tortuous vines of supplejack and 
bush lawyer, they plunge, and find the veteran at buy in a 
little rocKy hollow, scooped out by the water-action of 
centuries. His back i9 firmly planted against a perpendic- 
ular wall, and the narrow channel of the creek protects 
him from the assaults of his canine foes on either side. 
Now his rugged and formidable front is plainly visible; that 
long and powerful muzzle flecked with crimson foam and 
bristling with ivory teeth, over which the two curved tusks 
gleam like the heavy ordnance of a gun boat; that vicious 
and fiery eye that displays neither fear nor exhaustion; that 
broad and muscular neck ou which pain and fury have 
made 
“Each particnlar hair to stand on end 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine;" 
the boiling waters of the creek, stained and reddened by 
the shine and gore which flow from the wounded monarch 
of the the glen, and thick with the mud stirred up by the 
struggle— all form a savage scene iu striking contrast with 
the serenity of the spot. The dogs, excited by the imme- 
diate presence of their masters, and the full view of their 
quarry, make frequent dashes at him every now and then 
but are repulsed with more or less loss. Old Help, the 
gamest of the pack, has a bad gash on hit* left shuulder, 
aud the others show signs of having beeu trampled and 
submerged beneath the crimson waters, or dashed against 
the walls of rugged rock. But the old boar’s time has 
come. 
“You take him, Fred,” says Phil, “and look out for the 
dogs.” Watching his opportunity, and carefully balan- 
cing himself on the slippery sideling, Fred raised his little 
Terry's breech loader and sent a ball crashing through the 
powerful skull. With a smothered roar and a death-bound 
that scattered the dogs like hoodlums before an irate police 
officer, the huge brute plunges for a few yards down I he 
creek bottom, aud lies prostrate and kicking in the discol- 
ored waters. Dogs and men are ou him at once, Fred ami 
Phil holding his legs and sittiug on him generally, while 
Wal, his brawny arms hared to the shoulder, gives him the 
finishing touch with his long sheath knife. 
“By Jove! that’s the biggest boar I’ve seen on this coast," 
says Wal, surveying the hideous earcuss with professional 
admiration; “four hundred pounds, if he’s an ounce, and 
his tusks are in splendid order. You’d belter take them 
down South with you, Phil, just to show what we cun 
grow up here. 
“Well, hoys, we’ll just take a toothful 'o mountain dew 
and a draw at the dhudeen,” remurks Fred, unslinging l,is 
•pistol/ and further suiting the action to the word/ “I 
think I can sit and survey the situation for a few minutes 
to udvantugc. I wonder whether we can haul the brute up 
the terrace without cutting him up; he's a devil of a 
weight. What d'ye think, Phil? Here, man, take a pull 
at this. You’re standing there over that brute’s ugly car- 
cass with as much pathos in your expression and attitude 
as one might imagine Marc Antony exhibited^er Ciesar’s 
mutilated body." 
"Thanks,” says Phil, with a smile. “I don’t mind if I 
do. Yes," he pursues, after a refreshing interval, “the 
positions are somewhat analogous, all the actors, perhaps, 
slightly inferior in the general estimation; hut one might 
appropriately address our defunct friend, on Wal’s author- 
ity, as ‘the ruins of the noblest hog that ever lived’ — or 
died hereabouts; or, iu the immediate prospect of having 
to haul him up that infernal bank, one’s regret that we 
failed to drop him on the top would naturally enough find 
vent in such an apostrophe as ‘O, mighty Aper! thou dost 
lie so low!’ I could find a dozen parallelisms in the posi- 
tions; they open on one every minute — for instance — 
“For heaven’s sake don't look for them,” says Wal, con- 
temptuously, “a dozen good leaves of flax would be much 
more to the purpose just now, and you’ll have no wiud 
left for the pull if you get fairly started in the spouting 
line.” 
“I always said you had no soul, Wal,” retorted Phil, 
“however, you've one advantage there; your future need’nt 
be any consideration to you. I must admit, that I like to 
see a man who can extract pathos from the death of a pig 
under suitable conditions.” 
“Suppose you two philosophers agree to differ for the 
present and fight it out afterwards,” says Fred, who had 
been listening with ati amused air. 
All hands have now rested and finished their pipes. The 
dogs, who hail lain panting in the water, have recovered 
their wind and imbibed to their heart’s content. A couple 
of strong flax ropes are quickly constructed, and the de- 
capitated and otherwise lightened carcass of the boar is 
dragged by slow degrees, and with the utmost exertions of 
the hunters, up the steep bank; the head is brought up 
separately, and the two arc then suspended from a strong 
bough to await a future call. 
“We can get the bullock dray up here on Monday,” says 
Wal; “but I should like to have some good Christian pork 
to bring home into the bargain; this brute's scarcely passa- 
ble dog’s meat.” 
“It must be two o’clock by the sun," says Fred, taking 
an ’ocular,’ and I should like to be home early for the old 
lady’s sake. However, we’re sure to find something more 
by working back through the flux, and it will be all on the 
way." 
“We had better keep well up under the range," suggest- 
ed Phil; “the chances are that anything about here has 
made its way up as liigli as possible on hearing the dogs 
aud our rifles.” 
So away up through the thick flax again, and over the 
slippery undulations the party strode, and the dogs are soon 
ahead out of sight, and almost out of hearing. Nothing 
is seen till the foot of the Sugar-loaf is almost traversed, 
when the dogs are heard again at the very highest point of 
the flax, and evidently by their steady barking in view of 
good-sized game. 
"What have they got now, another old bristly?” asks 
Wal, pausing for a moment to listen. “We’ll go up, boys, 
and see, anyway,” he continues, leading the way at a pace 
that tries the lungs anil knees of his companions. 
“What a tiger to walk that fellow is," gasps Phil, whose 
southern life has been chiefly passed In the saddle. “I 
wish I had his mind for a day’s work like this.” As they 
ascend, the flax becomes somewhat shorter. “I think those 
old boars are too large and indifferent to take such ground 
as this, ’’says Wal; “but we shall see what's on hand in a 
minute or two.” The dogs are baying round a grouo of 
two or three small flax bushes, from the recesses of which 
a lazy grunt or two issue at intervals. “A big sow, or 
some of those Maori barrows, I expect, says Fred; “but 
whatever it is let ’em have it on the first chance I’m not 
coining all the way up for nothing, if I can help it." 
Urged by their masters, and evidently not so apprehensive 
as in the case of their last quarry, the collies make a pro- 
miscuous charge into the flax, and amid a mingled melody 
of grunts, squeals, Parks and howls, a couple of large, 
black bodies issue forth in different directions. Phil, who 
has perched himself on a little rise overlooking the clear- 
est exit from the lair, by a clever side shot plants a bullet 
in the brain of one, which drops ou the 9pot; the other 
closely pursued by Fred and the pack, makes down the hill 
through the flax at headlong speed. 
“Well plugged, Phil," shouts the ever ready Wal, whoso 
arm and kuife arc in working order on the shortest notice. 
“We’ll just bleed this fellow and then see what Fred’s do- 
ing below. Ah! now here w something like pork, if you 
like. A Maori, by Jove!,” lie exclaims, examining the 
earmark; “u fine harrow, too. I expect they will want 
this fellow for the ‘langi’ over old Reliird which is to come 
off next week. Somehow I fancy they will have to get 
along without him. Why, he can’t be less Hum 2.10 or SOU 
pounds, and in grand order for salting.” 
Wal’s pleasant anticipations of pork chops and liver and 
bacon do not interfere with his immediate official duties 
which have been expeditiously and scientifically per’, 
formed in the meanwhile. Wiping his blade on the palpi- 
tating carcass, lie stands up and listens Tor indications of 
Fred's progress below. The music of the dogs is plainly 
heard for a minute or two, then the sharp report of Fred’s 
Terry, and all is still. 
“1 expect Fred has killed him," says he; “so we may as 
weil try and haul this fellow down to the flat. I think we 
can manage him, Phil." 
“We’ll try at any rate," responds his companion; “any- 
thing is better thun grinding up here again." bo they 
bring the omnipotent and omnipresent flax into operation 
again, and harnessing themselves each to a hind leg, slowly 
drag the carcass down the hill. It is hard work; they are 
tripped up, stuck up, jammed up, in turn; hilt patience 
and persWeucy bring them and their freight eventually to 
the nearest point of access by a bullock diav. A loud 
“cooey," responded to by Fred, shows his direction and 
winding along the flat they find him in the Landing Place 
Creek wilh a Hue sow of some 200 pouuds wciirlit. wliirli 
has fallen a victim to his rifle. 
quarters are cut off and slung on the rifles for the imincii 
ale use of the dogs at home, the huntiug pack liuvinc re- 
galed themselves on the spot. 
"We must go back and haul up that barrow, Fred,’’ says 
Phil; “Wal and I could'nt manage him alone." “Oh! one 
of the Maoris, is he? and a good one, too, if you two 
could’nt hang him; serve the lazy beggars right; i'll teach 
them to look after their property better." 
“By Jove! he w a beauty," exclaims Fred, when they 
reach him. “When such a temptation as that i.s thrown in 
a man’s way, I don’t suppose he is meant to resist it." 
“Its a very comfortable theory under the circumstances 
nt any rate,” remarks his cousin, mischievously, “and I 
should recommend you to hold on to it till the next time 
the Maoris drop across a fat wether of yours in tantalizing 
proximity to their ‘pah/ when you can hand it over to 
them as the result of years of deep ihoughtiind practice on 
your part.” In justice to Fred Morcton, however, it might 
be hero stated that he ufterwads made a claim breast to The 
owners of the animal, and gave them ample ’utu' in Mic 
form of tobacco, flour, sugur, and ten for their lost prop- 
erty. 
’By Jovel I don’t know what this country would do 
without flax,” exclaims Wal, as they gaze in admiration on 
the suspended quarry; “they say that green hide and 
stringy bark hold Australia together; hut I'll hot the pair 
of them don't do so much for her, or do it as cheap as flax 
alone does for New Zealand." 
“I don’t believe they do,” assents Phil, “and the latter 
has, at all events, this advantage, that any man who is anx- 
ious to shuffle off this mortnl coil with the least possible 
expenditure of cosh, can do so on the. shortest notice by a 
judicious utilization of the nearest tree and flax hush," 
with which consolatory reflection, suggested no doubt by 
the several suspensions at which lie had assisted during the 
day, Phil shouldered his rifle and led the way home. 
L. Moon it. 
PHANTOM 
Fur Forex l amt Stream. 
FALLS. 
pounds weight, which 
“The dogs ran her right down here, and she stuck up in 
the creek, he explaius. “I could scarcely get them off 
so os to have a safe shot, but I ’potted’ her at last, fair be- 
tween the eyes, you see.” 
The sow is quickly hauled ont of the creek by the com- 
bined forces, and suspended to a suitable bough; her forc- 
W E had left Martin’s, and with our guides were fairly 
embarked iu our fragile boats upon our long-con- 
templated cruise ou the Adirondack lakes. Often as we 
had looked forward to this excursion aud pictured to our- 
selves the attractions of these scenes, we found the beau- 
ties in endless variety of these waters of the wilderness fur 
to surpass nil our expectation or imagination. To lie ap- 
preciated they most, lie seen, and only those who like our- 
selves ou some bright, cool morning have sailed over their 
crystal depths or have seen the selling sun flooding llieni 
with glory, or at night have watched the truck of the 
moon’s silvery light across their rippling surface, can real- 
ize the Charms of these gems ol the woods. Soon we 
passed the low, wooded shores of the Lower Saranac and 
left behind the islands that dot its surface, and entering 
the river we followed its circuitous windings into Round 
Lake, whose moods are as varying us 'hose of a spoilt 
“belle;" for here at any time can a goodly sized tempest he 
raised within an hour by a breeze that would hardly more 
than ripple the surface of another lake. Crossing the carry 
at Bartlett’s, we reached the Upper Saranac, more hcutiii- 
ful und very different from its sister we had first traversed. 
It will he long before we forget its bold, forest-clad hanks, 
or the mountain view which we beheld front tlm upper 
end. For its sake we shall forgive the very thorough wet- 
ting we received from an inprotnptu thunder shower at. 
sundown, especially as it made us appreciate more fully 
the excellent fare and accommodations at Carey's. 
The next day we crossed the Indian carry, through Stony 
Creek ponds, mid soon found our way into the Kiiquelle 
River, up which we paddled to Mother Johnson’s in lime 
for some of her famous pan cakes It is our conviction 
Wiat we do not like Mother Johnson’s so well as Murray 
did. This may be owing to the fact that the recollection 
of our excellent breakfast had not yet vanished, orJjccuuse 
innumerable mosquitoes dined oil us while we performed 
that office for the pan cakes, but the probability is that the 
fearful carry around the Ruquettc Falls has served 10 dissi- 
pate any pleasant recollections of the spot. Over this hill 
of rock, mud, and slippery roots “Julia" struggled and stum- 
bled fearfully, arriving safely only through the devoir d ef- 
forts of Mr. B , while “Belle," albeit unused to such little 
rambles, plowed her way steadily, lurching like a tug boat 
in a gale of wind. Bu: the worst things have an cud, ami 
happily wo came to the end of this carry before it ended 
us. Soon we were afloat above the falls, and after awhile 
emerging from the river, we came into Long Luke, which 
very nearly realizes the geometrical definition of u line, 
viz. : “length without breadth or thickness." But all lines 
are not so pleasant as this one; for Long Lake, with its 
high shores and view of the mountains iu the distance, 
might he the place intended by the Psalmist when lie said: 
“My lines arc fullcu iu pleasant places;" only it would l.c 
desirable to have other means of communication with the 
rest of the world than a corduroy road. The highest moufi- 
tain iu the vicinity has been re-chr.stened Kenysshall, aim 
a celebrated Presbyterian divine, but we would not have h 
inferred that the Long Lakers are Presbyterians, for we 
found there good Methodists, and quite prone to fall very 
cheerfully from grace. Alter breasting the south wind, pi 
has been kuowu to blow the other way,) and the miniature 
sea raised thereby, eveuing brought us to Long Lake vil 
lage, otherwise known as Gaugeville, where mine host 
Kellogg Btretclual his house, already full to overflowing, 
and made us welcome. 
It may he proper to inculicii here that our parly con- 
sisted ot three tourists — Mr. I )., a gentleman of uncertain 
age, rather tall aud robust, and chiefly distinguished by an 
exuberant mustache. He was distracted ou the subject "t 
lake and mountain scenery, was fond of fishing, and very 
useful in helping his wile across the curries. Julia, the 
wife aforesaid, was a represent^ive of altitude without 
latitude or longitude. She was remarkable lor her no*" 
and her tongue, which realized perpetual motion, neither 
liaquette Luke nor Raquolte River being so long a racket 
as she could produce. 8 ho was ulso noted as a champion 
“sleepisl," aud accomplished the feat of slumbering soundly 
a whole night in Alva Dunning’s slmntv while ten dog- 
raced over head harking at the owls, who'hooted their re 
sponses. Belle was u maiden of a dusky hue, aggravated 
by a thorough tanning on the lakes, hut whoso dark linir 
and blacker eyes made her complexion fair by contrast 
But for the modern stylo of her attire sho might have been 
the “Belle of the Mohicans, or other aboriginal tribe, us 
the damsel whom Murray saw glide over the falls. She 
was remurkuble for her perseverance in crossing the worst 
