Volume 6, Number I I I 
New SerleSf Number 89 I 
DEER STALKIXG IX THE AXDIROXDAtKS. 
BY SYLVANDS. 
“Ye crags and peaks, 
I'm with you once again.” — T ell. 
The particular crags and peaks above referred to in 
the language of Switzerland’s hero, were no part of the 
historic Alps, but were members of that noble family, 
enshrined in the hearts and memories of multitudes of 
America’s sons, the Adirondacks. And it was with feel- 
ings no less grateful and jo 3 ’ous than those which welled 
up from the heart and found utterance at the lips of the 
great patriot, as he gazed upon well remembered scenes 
of bis beloved Switzerland, that I, a humble but ardent 
devotee of sports “ by Hood and field” found myself 
“from care and labor free,” in November last, gazing 
upon scenes made dear to me bj' manj' pleasant 
memoi'ics. 
With what joyful emotions did I recognize each 
familiar landmark. The grand old mountains, rock- 
ribbed and crag-crested, tlie wooded valleys, the placid 
lakes, the brawling brooks, and rushing river seemed 
Itke old friends welcoming me back to the sylvian life I 
love so well. 
Kind reader, does “nature in her wilder moods” pos 
sess charms for j'ou? And when those brown and 
breezy Autumn daj's (called by some poor lovesick fool, 
melancholy) usher.s in the delights of the field, do you 
long to be awa}' upon the stubble, following the lead of 
your staunch pointer or setter, or in the “trackless 
forest,” pursuing the timid deer “even unto death?” 
Does the hounds full ciy, the graceful poise of pointer 
or setter, or the music of the pealing gun, cause j'our 
heart to quicken its pulsations, and make j'our pulses 
thrill with rapture? If so, please accept the hand of a 
kindred spirit in good fellowship and listen while 1 
recount to the best of my poor ability, the exploits of 
'■■our humble servant and three other knights of the 
trigger during a few weeks’ sojourn upon the pictur- 
esque banks of Cedar river. 
“Hello, Joe, how are you old fellow? You are just 
the chap I wanted to see,” exclaimed John 11. as 1 met 
him upon the street one day in October last. “A party 
of us are on the war path, and I want you to say that 
you’ll join us in a little deer hunt we have planned.” 
“A deer hunt, eh? Just the thing that would suit me 
best my dear fellow, that is if it is not to be too dear. 
But before I speak positively, I must know something 
more about your proposed expedition,” I replied. “Ex- 
actly, and I will proceed at once to elucidate. Our old 
friend Brown w'rote me some time ago that deer were 
plenty on the Cedar this fall and suggested that it would 
be a good lime for us to enjoy good sport, adding that 
he would be most happy to entertain us at his place and 
contribute to our pleasure in every way within his 
power. III compliance with his suggestion, Dolph and 
Pete and myself have talked the matter over and have 
arranged to strike out, bright and early Tuesday morn- 
ing, and propose to accept his kind invitation and make 
his place our head quarters. We go by stage via Glens 
Falls and Johnsburgh, and w’e want you to complete the 
party, and you have just got to go,” exclaimed this jolly 
disciple of Nimrod, emphatically. “Easy, my good 
fellow,” I replied, “my business engagements are such 
that it will be impossible for me to go at the time j’ou 
mention, but one week from that time I shall be at lib- 
erty and most happy to join you. I shall go ou the 
Adirondack I think.” 
In pursuance of the above arrangement I found 
myself comfortably seated in a railway coach on a 
bright and beautiful morning in November, en route for 
the happy hunting gnmnd. The scenery along the line 
of the Adirondack railroad is truly magnificent and well 
repays the lover of the beautiful in nature for a journey 
SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1875. 
to behold it. Starting from Saratoga, the tourist looks 
out upon cultivated fields, pretty cottages, contented 
flocks and herds, and all the fruits of the prosperous 
husbandman’s toil. But anon, “a change comes o’er 
the scene.” Bald and rugged mountains rear them- 
selves on either hand, and the road winds along the 
banks of the beautiful Hudson, insignificant in size at 
this point, past whirling rapids, and quiet glades, 
through rugged passes and occasionally past the dwell- 
ing of some hardy mountaineer, until the tourist is set 
down, as I was, at North Creek, the present northern 
terminus of the road. From this point stages conve 3 ’ed 
me twenty miles further 'to Jackson’s hotel on the 
Cedar, where I stopped for the night. 
At thi.s point I would caution the uninitiated of those 
who may follow me to beware of the multitudes of 
would-be guides who swarm around each hotel that you 
pass, eager to “suffer, bleed and die” in your service 
for the modest sum of from $3 to fo per diem. For this 
pittance the generous souls will patiently lead you to 
all the poorest places for sport, kill all the game they 
can on the sly, and the while be wondering where all 
the fools who patronize them were raised. Of course 
there are exceptions, but they are like oases in the des- 
ert, fevi' and far between. Early next morning I started 
on the seven-mile tramp up the river to Brown’s. 
Pleasant memories and bright anticipations combined 
to make the tramp pleasant despite the muddy' 
road, and the only thing intervening between me and 
unalloyed happiness was the sixty pounds of lugjage 
which I w as obliged to carry, and which made my 
shoulders ache long before reaching my destination. 
Arriving at Brown’s I was rejoiced to cast down my 
burden and greet the wife of mine host, a noble and 
kind-hearted lady as I have reason to know', and her 
quarte'.t of blooming daughters. All the nimrods were 
absent in pursuit of the antlered denizens of the forest, 
save Brown, who soon returned w'iih some fur from one 
of his “ traps lines.” The modest and unassuming 
Brown has often been obliged to hear his praises 
sounded by admiring friends, while his exploits have 
furnished themes for the graphic and versatile Buntline. 
“ But the half has not been told,” and I am disposed to 
add my mite. A “ Chef Damvre” of the old school of 
woodsmen, w'ho in the science <)f w'oodcraft can dis- 
count and then beat tbe smartest Indian that ever stood 
in mccasins; obliging and geninl, and crack shot and 
thorough gentleman; such, gentle reader, is J. B. 
Brown, of Cedar Kiver. Then there is Henry, Leonard, 
Fred and Will, stalwart sons, well versed in the lore of 
the woods; and lastly, but not least, when fun and com- 
icality counts, is the juvenile Si. A short, stroll with 
the gun consumed the remainder of the day, and I re- 
turned to find the party “ in,” and to listen to their re- 
port of no luck, though several deer had been seen. “ I 
tell you what I think,” said Pete, “There’s no use try'- 
ing to still hunt deer until we get some snow. On this 
bare ground and frozen leaves the chances are all 
against us.” I was more and more impressed with the 
truth of his assertion, as day after day passed without 
adding to the bag anything larger than Ruffed Grouse. 
The sixth day, however, “ broke the spell,” as Pete on 
that day brought in a fine otter that he had shot. On the 
day follow'ing Dolph and John bagged the first deer, a 
nice fawn, one w'oundiug and the other killing it. 
Their joy over, their success w’as checked, however, by 
receiving that evening a newspaper from home requir- 
ing their immediate return. “ Hurrah! wake up, wake 
up, old chum, and sec what a glorious sight awaits 
you,” cried Pete the next morning, shaking me vigor- 
ously as he spoke. Obey'ing his injunction, I look out 
of the window and behold the earth “wrapped in a 
mantle of white.” 
“Hurrah for sport now,” continued be; “Get into 
Established A. D. 1871, 
S4<aYear, 10 cts a Cony 
your shooting toggery and let’s be off. We must rival 
the deeds of Nimrod, Nestor and Murray combined 
’ere nightfall.” Hurrying through hreakfatt we tie on 
our moccasins, stow our ammunition matches, etc., in 
the pockets of our light gray shooting suits, grasp eur. 
rifles and sally forth. 
“Which way to-day, Pete, up or down the river?” 
“I shall go do db'wn and work toward Nettletop Moun- 
tain,” he replied. “All right; I’ll lead towards Ste- 
phen’s pond,” and with this we separated and I com- 
mence my tramp which continues until afternoon be- 
fore I strike the trail of the game. A whole “family” 
have passed along, and cautiously I commenc to “draw” 
on the trail. It is nearly night when I am rewarded for 
my da 3 '’s work by seeing the flash of a “flag” as it dis- 
appears over a hill in the distance. “Too late to follow 
them!” I mentally exclaim, and making the best of my 
defeat I start for the house. 
“What luck, Joe?” asked Pete, as wet and leg weary, 
I reach the house. “Sighted the game, that is all. 
How is it with yourself?” “Tally one for me,” he re- 
plied. “I’ve got a nice fawn hung up at the foot of 
Nettletop.” “You’re one ahead then. I congratulate 
you on your success, how’ever.” 
The next morning broke bright and beautiful over 
mountain and valley, and we were on the “warpath” 
with the rising of the sun. This morning I cross the 
river and strike for old Panther Mountain, one of the 
highest peaks in all this section of country. In less 
than an hour I am upon the fresh track of a huge buck. 
And now for it. Crawling through tangled thickets, 
creeping over hills, peering far ahead for the slightest 
motion that shall indicate the locality of the game, I 
continue to advance until suddenly I hear the crack of 
a dry limb, and further on come to where the deer 
“broke cover.” With relaxed muscles I lean back 
against a tree and gaze at those immense strides in the 
snow. This, then, is my reward for all my planning 
and engineering. As I lean against that tree, undefined 
wishes flit through my brain, for wings that I may pur- 
sue and overtake that deer, for the end of a good rope 
in my hands, the other end of which shall be fast to his 
horns, etc. No help for it, however, but my own tact 
and perseverance. I think of “Tymour and the little 
ant,” of -‘Gen. Grant and his last campaign,” and push 
forward on the trail. Half an hour’s tramp brings me 
to where the quarry has slackened his pace. More cau- 
tiously now I advance more cautiously, and soon have 
him upon a walk. Mute as a d 3 'ing wolf now, silent as 
the grave, feeling at every step with the pliable moc- 
casin for covered twigs, I creep on, looking far ahead 
and on each side until I see where a slender green twig 
has just been bitten off. A few paces ahead I see an- 
other. And. 3 'es, there far ahead, just visible through 
the trees is an abrupt hill covered with pine and spruce. 
Now which way does the wind blow? Taking a 
feather from my pocket I raise my hand and let it drop. 
[to 815 CONTINUED.] 
Dr. a. N. Ross, of Toronto has sold his fine collec 
tion of birds, moths and butterflies to the Russian Im- 
perial Museum. When the Grand Duke Alexis was in 
this country he saw the collection and on his report, 
an offer was made for its purchase. Dr. Ross offered 
it to his own government at a low figure, but they de- 
clined it and so it goes to Moscow. There were 800 
birds aftd 3,800 entomological specimens. 
ALL SPORTSMEN are interested in the best hunt- 
ing grounds of the South-west. The line of the Mis- 
souri, Kansas and Texas Railroad affords untold fields 
of Game-Birds, Fish and animals. Send to General 
Passenger Agent, Sedalia, Mo., for free maps, illustra- 
tions and descriptions. Correspondence solicited. 
