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Ivlay 1© 
THE .\0RTH-W00DS OF MAI\E.— >0. 9. 
BY G. T. RIDLOX. 
The stars were still twinkling, and only a faint sheen 
of daylight could be seen in the east, when the owner 
of the cabin called all hands from their couches. The 
women were making haste to prepare breakfast, and 
■with looking after guns and knives, every trap and fix- 
ture were ready before it •was light enough to see ob- 
jects distinctly, save at short distances. The dogs had 
discovered our intention, and were whining in their 
leashes, eager to be let loose. The morning air came 
down from the northern hills cool and bracmg, making 
the blood tingle in our veins, and inspiring the verj" 
best of spirits. A more hardy, hopeful company, could- 
not well be found. 
“Now, men,” said our host, “I’ve been detarmined 
this many a-day to take vengence on the varmint what 
has kitched my sheeps, and now we must rout the ole 
critter if ever he’s ’mong these ere mountains; an I’l 
•wage he’s been onter my land since sundown last night; 
he’s been mighty bold, and he’s sorter cunnin’ and cute 
like. I’ve leetle doubt he’s sum’r atween these ere 
hills; so we’d best strike down toward Crotched Creek, 
and then let the dogs beat back ’mong the deep woods; 
if bruin has been out arter his supper, his trail can be 
found, sartain’ fact.” 
Accordingl}' we turned round the cabin, went down 
the hill, crossed Crotched Creek, and after following the 
stream some two miles toward its source, our dogs com- 
menced to leap in the straps, raise the hair on* their 
backs, and make the woods ring with their deep bay- 
ing. We looked round to see what our leader was 
about, as he had tarried a short distance behind, -when 
we saw him down on his knees by the bank of the 
creek, “True’s you are on airth, here’s bruin's tracks 
in the mud where he’s been down ter drink; and I’ll 
wager he’s within the bearin’ o’ them are dogs no-w; so 
you’d best let em luse, men : cut ’em away, fellers, an’ 
we’ll have music afore long,” said our host. 
The dogs were instantly unstrapped, and with a yell 
which meant business, they swung their tails, and away 
they went. W e kept slowlj* moving along the bank of 
the creek, listening to the baying of our dogs, until 
their voices were lost to our ears. Inexperienced hunt- 
ers sometimes think their dogs have gone : far away 
because their baying cannot be heard; but this is not 
always the case. When dogs are in a deep valley, and 
wooded hills intervene between them and the hunters, 
they cannot be heard; and they are sometimes still, 
when near the hunter, bothered on the track. AVe had 
been waiting .some little time, hearing no sound, when 
at length clear and loud their bellowing wa.s heard just 
over the hill-side. 
“Look tur yer guns, men,” said our host; “be quick, 
and ready, for I’ll bet ten-pennj' that ole feller will 
break cover down that ravine, and he’ll jist as sartin 
try water in this creek as ye live; he’s been on the climb 
ever since them are dogs fust struck their key-note. 
He’s thinking about his day^’s journey, and will try to 
spile the scent by takin’ to water; you see now?” Host 
had hardly done speaking before crash, crash, went 
the brush; down went Host on one knee, and we could 
could not discover the bear before he had blazed awaj’, 
waking the ofd mountains with echoes, and extorting 
a scream of pain from the bear. “Thar, by. lory,” 
said he, “I splintered that old rascal’s leg, and I guess 
that’s all; I’m ginerly purty sure o’ hittin’ ri^ht the fust 
time; but I’s so kinder mad and tremlin’ like, when I 
think how that old black sarpint has tormented me, 
that I guess I didn’t take good aim.” The bear, mean- 
time had turnea from his course and went tumbling 
down the opposite side of the hill. AVe had started 
to follow, when Host cried out; “ Hold on there; its no 
use in running arter him, he’l hev a mighty hard time 
riinnin* now, and that are game leg will make him 
change all his plans; two to one, he don’t find a hole in 
the mountain now, or he’l climb if he can, so its no 
use to run, no use at all, ’pend on it.” 
The dogs had been bothered on the ferns that grow 
very thick, but just as Host fired, they had picked up 
the scent and were coming down the mountain, bellow- 
ing as though the hills -were in convulsions; and bruin 
having been turned from his course, they were soon at ^ 
his heels. “I’l bet my horn o’ powder, we’l hev bruin j 
in a den or tree afore an hour ’t the most, he’l put up ^ 
at the first tavern he cums tu; he knovs'S there’s no 
use in trying to make his legs save him now, so he’ll 
jist du the next best thing that he can.’* 
AVe asked our host what could be done to dislodge the 
bear, should he find a cave in the mountains — how we 
could make our hunt a successful one. “AA’al now,” 
said he, “you needn’t hev any fears ’bout that, gentle- 
men; I’ve kno-wn meny a bar to den in the mountain- 
rocks, and I’ll dig him out, if I hev to go to the settle- 
ment and git powder to blow him out.” AVe saw the 
determination of our host, and plodding slowly along, 
we soon found by the baying of the dogs that they 
were located, and the probabilities were that bruin 
was at bay. AA'e remarked that the bear was probablj- 
in a tree, and were about running to get the first 
shot, when Host commenced his queer talk again; 
“ No-w men, you may jist as well take your time, 
that bar haint took tree, for he’s got a lame leg, and 
could’nt climb if he wanted to; yom’ll se« some o’ 
them are dogs a cornin’ ter meet you before long 
if bruin’s denned, now ’pend on it; and I recon we’ll 
hev plenty of time to rest, afore we feel o’ his fur.” 
AVe soon found one of the doers coming to meet us, 
and following him -we were soon standing before a low- 
hole in the rocky mountain side, and in one of the 
■wildest places I have ever seen. The dogs were tearing 
up the bushes round the mouth of the den, and yelling 
with all the lung power in their bodies. AVe tried to 
hush the dogs so that we could hear each other, but it 
was no go; the}' bad put bruin in, and were crazy to get 
hold of him. AA'e looked into the face of our leader, 
and soon heard him saying “Now men, we know where 
our game is as well as the ship-cook knew where his 
tea-kettle was — it waa’t lost; for he knew it was over- 
board — and if you want seme single-handed fun, you 
may humble yourselves and crawl in with bruin.” 
AA'e had no desire to take quarters with a wounded 
bear, and after so stating, waited to see what our host 
would do. ‘Tspected this,” said Host, “afore I started, 
and put some foco matches in my ole pocket; now- 
gentleman you jist git me some dry splinters, and we’ll 
either bring old nasty out, or smoke his bacon for him.” 
The wood was gathered — dry, dead oak limbs, and 
when a brisk fire was under way we piled on moist 
leaves and rotten wood, partly smothering the fiames, 
and creating a dense smoke, which the draft carried 
straight up iotot.be den. “Now sirs,” said Host, “we 
must take them dogs out of the way afore bruin comes 
out, he’ll knock daylights out of them; just you. Mister 
Hamlin, lake them dogs a leetle way off, and hold them 
in till the old chap comes out. Ye see, he’ll be kinder 
blind like, eyes full of smoke, and we must take him 
down afore he can dive inter his den again.” 
Host kept piling on leaves and rotten wood, while 
two of us were stationed a little way off, with guns 
cocked, expecting every moment to see bruin poke his 
head out. “No hurry, gints,” said the fireman; “he’ll 
cover his eyes with his paws and smoke a good while 
afore he’ll budge a hair. He knows this is unnatural, 
and then that are cave may be purty roomy, and it takes 
a good deal o’smoke to fill it; he’s been here afore now, 
you’ll bet.” He had hardly uttered the last sentence — 
his assurance made us careless — before out jumped the 
bear, plump upon him, knocking him over his fire, and 
down among the rocks, he was scrambling with all his 
might to regain his feet, and at the same time shouting 
lustily, "Don’t hit me, don’t hit me; but put it into the 
bar.” 
The smoke had grown so thick in the direction of his 
place that we could not see to distinguish ii:an from 
bear; and fearing that after all our game would give us 
the slip, we called out to Hamlin to let on the dogs. 
Now, as we soon learned, the man and bear had fell 
down among some large rough rocks, and were so be- 
wildered by the smoke and fall that neither had time to 
get out — all this was the work of a moment — befors the 
three savage dogs were upon them . That was the wild- 
est den of animals and humanity ever kn»wn on Amer- 
ican “sile.” The bear was so blinded with smoke that 
he could not tell which way to steer, and as the dogs 
leaped in, he fell back directly upon poor Host. 
The bear roared with rage as the dogs fastened on 
his legs, and tearing in every direction to throw off his 
canine foes, he as often came in contact with Host, as 
the dogs. Such a mingled medley of sounds and cries 
of pain and distress was enough to paralyze one; the 
bear roared, the dogs yelled with rage and pain — bruin 
had two of them — and Host was screaming at the top of 
his voice: “For God’s sake, men, why don’t you pull 
me out? Don’t shoot me; come on and help me; this 
tarnal old varmint is tearing my flesh all off my bones.” 
About this moment, by some chance hit, the bear rushed 
out with two dogs fastened to his legs. AVhen an op- 
portunity offered for us to fire and not hit the dogs, -we 
sent two bullets through bruin’s head, and thus settled 
the matter with him. But now we set about the work 
of looking after the killed (?) and wounded. The result 
was as follows: One dead dog — his bowels torn out — a 
dead bear; another dog badly scratched, a Host, poor 
fellow, came out badly bruised and with his clothes 
nearly stripped from his body. 
It was astonishing to hear that old hunter, as he stood 
there over the bear, with his face and arms bleeding, 
and his garments hanging in rags, and poured out his 
anger and invectives upon the forest air. “AVal, you’re 
dun fur now, mister bruin, aint ye? I wonder if you’ll 
ketch any more o’my old sheeps and lambs? and you’s 
tarmined to take me tu, worm ye? AVal, sur, you’re jist 
done for now, ennyold how, and I’m tarnal glad on’t; 
I am, sartain.” 
The dead dog belonged to one of his neighbors, and 
the wounded one to me. It was getting well into the 
day, and putting the rope which we had taken into the 
bear’s jaws, we slung our guns and dragged him to the 
settler’s cabin. 
A.IIERIfAX SPORTSREX .\XD THEIR DOGS. 
BY DOG-WHIP. 
It is not every man, not even a sportslnan, who knows 
a good dog at sight. I admit I am not able to tell what 
a dog is in the field by seeing him on the show bench; 
his points may betray his character; he may be what no 
judge can see outside of the field; he may have no nose, 
or he may be gun-shy. There are many other faults a 
dog may have which can be seen nowhere but in the 
field, still a good dog is just like a good horse; he must 
have the points which make him good. If such was not 
the case then for all looks are concerned, the most 
worthless, ugly cur might be quite as good as the hand- 
somest pure-bred setter or pointer, and everybody 
knows this is not the case. Any sportsman knows a 
setter from a pointer, (save his being a worthless mule or 
dropper); again, there is no difficulty whatever in tell- 
ing a setter from a spaniel, a colly, a hound, or any oth- 
er breed of dog. Their characteristics are altogether dif- 
ferent, and it requires no judge to tell them apart; but 
place two fairly matched setters or pointers before Amer- 
ican sportsmen, dogs which they never saw before, and 
there are not, I venture to say, one sportsman in a hun- 
dred the whole country through who can tell which is 
the better dog and show the points in the dog which 
make him superior to the other, and yet many of these 
may be very good sportsmen; but as to the points in a 
dog, they have not given the subject one moineut’s con- 
sideration; many of them have acted as though there 
were no points by which to distinguish a good dog from 
an ordinary one. They have relied altogether on their 
knowledge of what a dog is by seeing him work in the 
field. Anyone knows a good dog when they see him do 
all that can be expected of a dog in the field; no judg- 
ment or knowledge of points is required there. The 
knowledge that most of our sportsmen lack is being 
able to judge a dog out of the field, and to know the 
shape and make a dog ought to be to constitute a good 
animal. Some will say a dog may h-ave all the points 
necessary to make him a good dog, and yet not 
be^worth his salt in the field; this is possible. A 
dog that is good in every respect in the field must of 
necessity have the points which make him the good 
dog that he is; had ,he not the essential points he 
would be unable to do what he does in the field, and a 
good judge can see these points as quick as he puts his 
eye on him. AVbat makes the lover of the horse, on 
seeing that animal for the first time, may be in the pas- 
ture field, exclaim at sight, “He’s a goer!” never having 
seen the horse travel? Because he sees at a glance that 
the animal has the points, and shape and make that con- 
stitute the goer. If one went to old John Harper, in 
Kentucky, to see “Longfellow,” and asked his owner to 
show the points in that horse which enabled him to be- 
come so renowned on the turf, he -would not be long in 
doing it. Should you call on Bobert Bonner and ask 
him to show you the points in “Dexter” which enable 
him to trot a mile in 3.17 1-4, that would be done with- 
out any hesitation or error. The points in a setter or 
pointer are just as Dromineut; and }et so little studied^ 
by our sportsmen for the very reason, as I have said be* 
fore, that they have relied altogether on seeing the dog 
perform in the field, no matter if he had not one good 
point about him. He might be pointer, setter, span- 
iel, badger, or what is worse than all, a dropper, hand- 
some or ugly, no matter what; blood not worth on« 
