250 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 18, 1906. 
It was evident that Uncle Shaw was hearing 
something lie did not like to hear; and that he 
was being put into the same “hole” that some 
of our politicians in larger places have been 
deposited in. He was now without doubt try¬ 
ing to decide between self interest and what he 
considered to be his duty to the town; and 
the decision was in this case, as in many others, 
somewhat of a compromise. 
“Wall,” he said, slowly, “I dunno but what 
she says is all true. But as for the town run- 
nin’ into debt to build a bridge, I shall always 
fight again' it, specially as tain’t our place to build 
the bridge; it belongs to the State or county; 
an' let them do it. And ’bout that road machine, 
I want it distinctly understood that that ere 
machine was bought just as much for the Hill 
folks as for the Valley folks, and it’s going to 
be worked on the roads just as soon as they cut 
the bushes; and Steve Pelham has got the job 
to cut all the bushes on every road on the hill. 
If I got a job put through the way he did, 
specially when everybody knows Watson can’t 
read writing, I wouldn't say anything about the 
price of a road machine if I was his wife.” 
George looked somewhat mollified, and it was 
evident that the last shot had hit. “She says 
what makes you so mad about that bushes job,” 
he retorted, “was because you didn’t get it.” 
“I didn’t want the job for myself. I told ’em 
so at the meetin’. All I wanted it for was be¬ 
cause some of them poor fellows out there was 
owing me, and I thought it would be a good 
chance for them to pay me and not take no 
money.” 
“That just what she says,” said George. “She 
said she knew that’s just what you wanted, and 
that the more them poor people worked for you, 
the more they owed you; and for her part she 
should tell them that she thought the best way 
for them was to work for some good man like 
her husband and take the money and pay you. 
And she says that if you weren’t so sot in your 
ways, there weren't no doubt but they could 
fix it some way so as you could get quite a 
lot of money out of them men when they got 
through.” 
“Wall, I dunno. Miss Pelham, she’s a master 
hand to plan, an' I dunno but 'twill be just as 
well to let it go so. You tell her for me that I 
think she is about as good a hand to plan up 
things as there is on the Hill. And I wish 
she’d just keep her eye on them Dickermans, 
and I’ll be out by-em-by. I’m so busy now that 
I can’t get no time to do nothin’. You’ll tell 
her, won’t you, George?”. And Uncle Shaw 
went out of the store. 
“He’s gone up to see the Selectmen. Wants 
to see them ’fore Steve Pelham does, I guess,” 
said George, with a laugh. “He needn’t worry 
none. I’ll tell her all he said.” 
“What was it about something scaring Miss 
Dickerman?” said Frank. 
“Oh! yes,” said George. “She went down to 
the spring to get some water, and just as she 
got there a big critter as big as a big dog 
jumped out of the woods and looked at her. 
She was pretty scared and took her dress up in 
both hands and shook it at him, and said, ‘Shoo!’ 
and the thing just turned around and slunk into 
the woods. She said it looked as if ’twas 
shamed, and Dickerman, he said, probably 
’twas.” 
“Are there many such animals as that around 
here?” asked Will. 
“No, I guess not. I hain’t never seen none; 
but I can remember of there being one ’round 
all winter when I was a youngster, and folks 
didn’t dare to go out of the house scarcely 
after it was dark,” said George. “Well, I must 
be going along home. It’s five o’clock now, and 
it'll take me till six to get to the top of the 
hill.” And George, gathering up his bundles, 
strode out of the store and started home. 
After supper the people gathered around the 
store again. Will and Harry went over to get 
their mail, and to hear the stories that were 
sure to be told. Frank came out and said, “Say, 
bovs, are you goin’ to sit here a minute or two? 
Uncle Shaw hain’t come to supper yet, and I 
must go up and get mine, and I can’t lock the 
door, because he’s got the key.” And Frank 
went to his supper. 
It was growing dark, and one could hardly 
distinguish a person until coming into the circle 
of light that shone from the windows and door 
of the store. People were passing, but none of 
them had seen Uncle Shaw. Frank came down 
from his supper. “I don't see where Uncle Shaw 
is. The cows came home as much as an hour 
ago. He must have let them out and stopped 
somewhere. Say, Jim, I wish you’d take the 
pail and milk for me, I can’t leave the store.” 
Just as Jim got to the door some one came 
staggering toward the store. When he got near 
enough to let the light that streamed out 
through the door fall upon him, they saw that 
it was Uncle Shaw. 
His clothes were stripped nearly off of him. 
He was covered with blood from head to feet, 
and over his shoulder he carried something large, 
Will sat beside the door, and as Uncle Shaw 
got to him he threw the thing on his shoulder 
to the floor at Will’s feet, and said, “There, 
Will, that’s the critter that killed the sheep. I 
brought him home to ye, but I guess he’s about 
done me up.” And Uncle Shaw fell on his 
face on the floor. 
There were many willing hands to raise him 
up, and it made some of the stout hearts faint 
to see how the old man was bitten and gashed 
up. From his neck to his knees he was a mass 
of wounds that plainly showed through the 
tattered clothes. 
“Here, Frank,” said some one, “you go up 
and tell Miss Shaw and open the front door, 
so’s we can carry him right up there.” 
Frank moved with as much alacrity as he had 
ever used in his life, and when he got up there 
he went right through the house to open the 
door. Mrs. Shaw saw him, and said, “Frank, 
what you goin' to open that door for? I don’t 
want it opened.” 
“Hur?” said Frank. 
“Why, I don't want that door open; it lets 
in so many flies.” 
“Well, I guess p’raps 'twill be just as well to 
open it now, ’cause you see Uncle Shaw, he’s 
got hurt and they are bringing him up the front 
stairs.” 
“Why, massy sakes! Got hurt? How did he 
get hurt?” cried the frightened old lady. 
“I dunno; but I guess he had a fight with 
some kind of a animal, for^ he brought a dead 
one home on his shoulder.” 
By this time they had got Uncle Shaw up¬ 
stairs and on to the bed. Iwo of the men be¬ 
gan to get off the torn and bloody clothes, and 
wash his wounds. Frank went for a doctor, 
who soon came, and all was being done for the 
injured man that could be. 
As no information had been obtained from 
Uncle Shaw as to what had occurred, naturally 
the beast was looked to to supply the explana¬ 
tion. It was found to be a Canadian lynx, or 
“bob cat,” as the people of northern New Eng¬ 
land called it. 
It stood about thirty inches high at the 
shoulders, which were very deep and powerful. 
It had a short neck surmounted by a round cat¬ 
like head with long ears. These ears had each 
a tuft of long hairs that stuck up at the tip 
like an inverted brush, giving to the animal an 
extremely ferocious look. The forelegs were 
remarkably large and strong, and the feet were 
armed with claws nearly as long as one’s fingers. 
The body was very deep and was cut away as it 
approached the hind legs, which ^ were not as 
graceful as the fore quarters. The _ body was 
clad in a coat of shaggy gray fur, indistinctly 
marked with bars of darker gray, and terminated 
in a tail only an inch or two long. 
As it lay on the floor it was indeed a formi¬ 
dable beast, and there was much wondering how 
Uncle Shaw had killed it. On its hind leg was 
the trap to which was hanging a part of the 
chain; but hunt as they might there was no 
wound to be fouqd to show how the old man 
had killed it. 
Many were the surmises; but while none knew 
what had happened, they all knew that Uncle 
Shaw was in a serious condition and the bob 
cat was dead. 
Will took charge of the cat, as Uncle Shaw 
had given it to him with the last words he had 
said. He had the trap taken off and put away 
in the store, and then was to have some one 
skin the beast, but was told that if he intended 
to have it mounted, he should send it home 
whole. This they did, and then the village set¬ 
tled down to await from Uncle Shaw himself an 
account of the fight. 
[to be concluded.] 
Justice for the Indians. 
In Forest and Stream for June 16, Walter B. 
Anderson in his valuable series of articles on 
“In the Lodges of the Blackfeet,” relates how the 
Piegans were criminally forced from their lands 
and homes, and, practically, their means of sub¬ 
sistence arbitrarily and wrongly taken from them 
by executive orders, and then in effect treated as 
Outlaws and wild animals with no means of 
redress of their own, and no friends to effectually 
intercede for them. 
In the concluding words of that chapter he 
says : “By right that vast tract of country lying 
between the Missouri and Musselshell Rivers and 
from the Missouri to the Marias, still belongs 
to the Blackfeet. The treaty of 1855 guaran¬ 
teed it to them, but it was taken away by two 
executive orders of July 2, 1873, and Aug. 19, 
1874. If a good lawyer would take up the case, 
he could undoubtedly get redress for them, and 
a very handsome fee for himself.” 
Now this bitter wrong is no new example of 
our Government’s dealings with most, if not all, 
our Indian tribes, who are, in many ways, treated 
simply as animals, and who are doomed to go 
as the buffalo has gone, unless the friends of 
these now dependent people shall come to their 
rescue and demand that honest justice be done 
them in this and all other matters, and that their 
just rights be respected. 
We trust that Anderson’s writings may arouse 
the American people who are opposed to oppress¬ 
ion and injustice, and if this matter was properly 
presented to them, and they were given an op¬ 
portunity, their practical sympathy and support 
could be obtained and the demanding of just 
treatment for our Indians, and where their 
rights have been transgressed, have redress 
granted to them. 
We have good game laws enacted for the pro¬ 
tection of our game fish, birds and animals, and 
powerful organizations formed to enforce these 
laws, and all this is eminently just and right. 
But if the wild birds, and the game fish of our 
inland waters, are worthy of our interest and pro¬ 
tection, then should we not be at least equally 
interested in seeing that our Indians (human 
beings like ourselves) be honestly recognized 
and protected, realizing that alone and unaided 
they cannot cope successfully with their white ad¬ 
versary. 
The Sac and Fox Indians of Iowa would long 
ago have had their lands confiscated by rapacious 
wdiites, and themselves practically wiped out of 
existence, had it not been for an organization of 
the white friends of these people who in the 
courts fought and protected their rights. 
This is a time of reform, and a period when 
the evildoer is having his actions and motives 
sharply scrutinized, and just punishment we trust 
will be meeted out to them. 
Forest and Stream has in many lines per¬ 
formed grand services, and the field for such labors 
is rapidly broadening. The future alone can 
reveal the great amount of good it may accom¬ 
plish by continuing in this good work. 
Clement L. Webster. 
Charles City. It. 
Alligators in Athol Swamps. 
Athol, Mass., July 30.—William Betts espied 
two alligators sunning themselves on the bank 
of Lord's Pond yesterday. He captured one 
about eighteen inches long, but the other, which 
he says is about six feet, got away. J. Knight 
Perkins, of Worcester, whose business is the 
capture’of alligators in Florida for the market, 
was in Athol last summer, and it is supposed 
that while here he lost some of his captives, 
which reached the swamps.—New York Times. 
