Nov. is, 1913- 
FOREST AND STREAM 
H 21 
the foot of a birch, and as he went humming 
away over the tops of the short alders, I caught 
him fair with a charge of No. 8s. Scarcely 
had he touched the ground, when another 
jumped at my right. This was my weak angle 
for shooting, and I missed him clean with my 
first barrel, but doubled him up prettily with 
my second. Reloading, and securing the birds, 
I had taken only a few steps, when another 
bird got up. I obtained but a glimpse of him, 
offering not even a snapshot, so I listened until 
he came to a stop, then started in his direction. 
This bird proved to be a veritable “will-o’-the- 
wisp,” and I doubled and turned until I had 
lost about all idea of direction. Of course, the 
sun offered a fairly reliable compass, but after 
a half-hour’s useless attempt at finding my way, 
I almost had a panic. Not being closely re¬ 
lated to Joe Knowles, I didn’t know which side 
of the trees the moss grew on, but I did know 
how to figure my course from the river, provid¬ 
ing I could locate the river’s direction. I was 
about to climb a tree and take an observation, 
when I heard the distant whistle of a locomo¬ 
tive, that cleared up everything—the railroad 
followed the Penobscot. Setting my course ac¬ 
cordingly, I was pleasel to find the alders where 
I had shot the partridges, and there were the 
three empty shells. I have felt ashamed of my¬ 
self many times for that half-hour’s nervousness, 
but when one is young and in a strange country, 
a country where one can go for miles and miles 
without getting clear of the woods, one is likely 
to get twisted up, sometimes. 
I found our meeting place, but since it was 
long past the time agreed upon, I concluded 
that the Count must have come and gone. In 
fact, the discovery, later, of two half-burned 
matches confirmed my conclusion. 
Dusk was gathering as I walked back along 
the wood road, and save for the faint rustle of 
a leaf here and there, not a sound disturbed 
the magic of the soft twilight. At the bank of 
the river I blew a blast on the horn, and soon 
the boatman came to take me across. He said, 
“That fellow with the big nose had crossed 
long ago.” On arriving at my fraternity house. 
I found the boys just sitting down to supper. 
The Count had shot a red squirrel. 
A Day’s Shooting in Newchwang. 
There have been many suggestions just 
lately in England as to what should be done 
with the suffragettes; I will add one more. I 
would dump them in a bundle in the middle 
of the great stretch of mud flat at the entrance 
of the Liau River. 
Newchwang is situated at the northern end 
of the Liau-tung Gulf, which opens into the 
Gulf of Pe-chi-li. Its neighborhood is summed 
up in the Sailing Directions in a few words: 
“A low, desolate, dreary, expanse of mud 
flat.” 
The town is situated on the Liau River, 
about ten miles—if my memory does not betray 
me—from its mouth. The river takes a right 
angle bend as it approaches the town, bringing 
it parallel to the shore line. 
The entrance to the river is marked by a 
solitary lightship, and the air of utter desolation 
has to be seen to be realized. Further up, as 
you approach the town, the river ‘ is made 
picturesque by the number of junks and small 
Chinese boats—picturesque, so long as you keep 
well to windward. 
It is an ugly river with a five to six knot 
ebb, not to speak of occasional freshets. For 
several months in the year it is closed to navi¬ 
gation, and in spring, freshets have a nasty 
habit of bringing a little stray ice down with 
them, with the result that the river bed is en¬ 
riched with many anchors and cables. It is 
an even chance that you will pick up one of 
these when you anchor and spend a day or so 
trying to weigh it. Northerly gales there last, 
as a rule, about three days, and during that time 
the river is no place for a small boat to be at 
anchor, lying as she is, open hawse to the wind. 
We arrived there one day early in October. 
I had been told that there was good shooting 
at Newchwang: so there is, but you have got 
to go ninety miles for it, or else wait another 
month till the duck and geese put in an ap¬ 
pearance in force. 
Nothing daunted, however, we set forth— 
there were four of us—shortly after our arrival 
to see what could be done about it. We took 
the train to the first station on the railway line 
and then off over the plain to where what little 
water there was lay. 
After what seemed to me a long walk, we 
arrived at a small lake. There was not a 
vestige of cover, and there were several ducks 
on the water. We separated, and after a wide 
detour, approached the lake from all sides. The 
duck, however, were too wide awake for that 
and left us watching them disappear in a long 
thin line over the horizon. 
We discovered another lake not far away, 
but with no more luck. A few snipe round the 
edges of the lakes afforded a couple of hours’ 
chase, for what we saw we tracked down till we 
shot. After that there seemed to be nothing 
for it but kick our heels and wait for the evening 
flight, then some hours off. 
I announced my intention by building my¬ 
self a shelter. This I did and then clambered 
inside it to wait, as I said, on the off chance 
of a goose. 
The sun was very hot, although October. 
Seizing an opportunity when no one was look¬ 
ing, I frantically signalled the coolie, who was 
carrying the lunch basket, and polished off the 
last bottle of beer. Greatly refreshed, I sank 
back in my shelter. On the far side of the 
lake I could see one of my companions toiling 
after some hapless snipe he had marked down. 
“Hot work, that,” I thought. 
A shimmering haze of heat throbbed over 
the surface of the land; the sun played warmly 
on my face. 
“Yes,” T said to myself, “it’s devilish hot.” 
I awoke with a start and shivered. The sun 
was just giving one last peep over the horizon 
and the chill of the evening was in the air. I 
looked shamefacedly around me, wondering if 
anyone had noticed my predicament. I could 
make out my companion across the water, and 
the other two, I supposed, were at the other lake. 
I was startled by a shot on the far side and 
saw a bird fall. An occasional desultory shot 
in the distance, but as yet nothing had come 
my way, at least I hope it hadn’t. Then I saw 
them, half a mile away, a flock of twenty geese 
or more, flying low and straight toward us. 
It is a moment like this that will repay one 
for hours of waiting. Gripping my gun fiercely, 
as I crouched low in my shelter, thoughts flew 
through my head as to just exactly what I would 
do to that other fellow, if he fired at that high 
duck which I could see, out of the corner of my 
eye, was going to pass right over him. It was 
a moment of terrible suspense. 
Ah! I breathed freely again; the duck had 
passed anl he had not fired. 
On they came, heading straight for me.. 
They are sheering off. No, they are not. 
Steady! Now! 
I sprang to my feet, and singling out a 
luckless young goose, who was somewhat astern 
of station, let drive. 
A feeling of compunction for him overcame 
me, even as I pulled the trigger. Poor fellow, 
it was twenty to one against him being selected, 
and yet here he was. Perhaps that was why I 
had to give him the second barrel to bring him 
toppling down. Still I did not mind much, for 
it was the first goose of the season, and that 
is always a red letter day for me. 
We were a merry party going back, and 
judging from the afternoon’s bag—a few odd 
snipe—I believe I spent my time to the best 
advantage after all. 
Alabama Shooting. 
Montgomery, Ala., Oct. 31 .—.Editor Forest 
and Stream: On to-morrow the open season on 
quail and deer in Alabama will begin. Reports 
received by the Department of Game and Fish 
indicate that this season game is unusually 
abundant. A splendid hatching season was had 
on quail, and these birds, the most popular of 
all, have multiplied rapidly. The law provides 
that only one deer and twenty-five game birds 
may be legally killed by a hunter in any one 
day. It is a violation of the law for any per¬ 
son to hunt outside of the voting precinct of 
his residence, without a license, or to transport 
game on a common carrier without a hunter’s 
license. 
Game wardens and deputy game wardens, 
consisting of the constables and justices of the 
peace, also special deputies of the county war¬ 
dens, have been directed by the State Game 
and Fish Commissioner to be on the alert to 
arrest all who violate or who attempt to violate 
the game law in any manner. The reckless and 
wanton slaughter of game, the sale of game by 
pot-hunters, which formerly flourished in Ala¬ 
bama, is now a thing of the past. 
The new migratory game law has just been 
put into effect by a proclamation by President 
Wilson. The open season in Alabama on migra¬ 
tory waterfowl and birds is as follows: 
Waterfowl, including brant, wild ducks, 
geese and swan, from Nov. 1 to Feb. 1. 
On rails, coots and gallinules, from Sept. 1 
to Dec. 1. 
On woodcock, from Nov. 1 to Jan. 1. 
On plover and snipe, from Nov. 1 to Jan. 1. 
The new migratory game laws was passed 
for the purpose of securing a uniformity in the 
open seasons, throughout the United States, on 
migratory waterfowl and birds. 
Resident birds, such as quail and doves, are 
not affected by the new Federal game law. This 
year promises to be the greatest for sportsmen 
which has been enjoyed in Alabama within a 
generation. John H. Wallace, Jr., 
State Game and Fish Commissioner. 
