38 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Jan. io, 1914. 
“THE CITY “SPORT” WAS LED UP TO HIM AND GIVEN A SHOT.” 
that vicinity for the last six years in succession, 
could not get a deer to bring home. His guide 
led him up to many deer, but he was evidently a 
bad shot and could not hit any. He also insisted, 
like a true sportsman, that his guide should not 
shoot any deer for him. But not being able to 
get one himself and preventing his guide from 
shooting any, every one of his hunts became a 
deerless adventure. Ultimately, thinking that it 
was his guide’s fault, he announced that if any 
guide should lead him up to a buck and he got 
that buck, the guide should then have earned 
$250. 
This was a great incentive to the natives of 
those woods. They made up their minds to get 
it. One guide heard that at a certain camp some 
lumberman had caught a wounded buck and held 
him in captivity. That buck, which had one 
broken leg and five broken ribs, was led into the 
woods, tied to a tree and the city sport was led 
up to him and shot the poor, tied, half dead ani¬ 
mal. He then paid the $250, took the deer, ship¬ 
ped it home and paraded as a skilfull deer hunter. 
After hearing that story I told the proprietor 
that my hunting with a guide was ended. I 
would either hunt alone or stay indoors. 
Wednesday, the 22nd of October, was my 
first day of real deer hunting. In the morning 
there were about two inches of snow on the 
ground, which made excellent tracking. 
I did not see a deer that day, but I followed 
numerous deer tracks and was sure that some 
wily old buck had been watching me and had de¬ 
parted before I came up to him. On three differ¬ 
ent occasions I found the ground pawed up by 
some jealous old lover, and coming up to one 
thicket, I heard a loud snort, a crash, and al¬ 
though I did not see the author of the disturb¬ 
ance, I knew that I might have seen and had a 
shot at the big fellow. 
Besides the pride of being able to go out 
alone, I now know that a day’s hunting cost me 
$3.75 less than it had. 
Following instructions, and consulting my 
compass, I returned to camp in the evening a 
trifle tired, but happy. 
In the evenings at camp the hunters can be 
seen sitting in comfortable rockers and on 
couches, smoking and relating their experiences, 
planning the hunting for the next day. 
On that Wednesday night, after a good din¬ 
ner, the hunters decided to invade new territory 
on the morrow. 
Twelve such men, including myself, decided 
soon after breakfast of the next day, we would 
board a motor boat, cross the lake and begin our 
day’s hunt on Indian Mountain and near Brandy 
Brook, a tributary of Cranberry Lake. This was 
decided upon in view of the fact that numerous 
deer signs were reported in that vicinity. 
Reaching our destination, our guide advised 
me to hunt in the valley, near the brook. He 
also instructed me how to follow a certain tote 
road until I should reach a lumberman’s camp. 
This would be about noon, he told me, and then 
I could return to our place of landing by going 
in a south-westerly direction. An elderly gen¬ 
tleman, Mr. Buckley, took the same road, but I 
passed him sitting on a log and watching a run¬ 
way. I proceeded cautiously watching every 
knoll, nook and corner. 
It rained, hailed and snowed almost all the 
time I was near the lake. The leaves and dry 
twigs on the ground were silenced by the mois¬ 
ture under the tread of the moccasin. It was 
easy gliding through the woods. But on this 
memorable day, it cleared up and the sun shone 
through the tall timber. The ominous silence 
without a gust of wind, portended an oncoming 
storm. 
The rest of the hunters were at the top of 
the mountain and in about an hour’s time, I 
heard shooting, so far away, though, that I paid 
no attention to it. 
I came across two or three fresh tracks 
which I followed for a short time, but then lost 
in the thicket. 
When I began to feel the pangs of hunger, I 
consulted my watch and found that it was only 
twenty minutes past eleven. However, I decided 
to eat the appetizing jerked venison the camp sup¬ 
plied me. Selecting a table-like stump of a tree, 
I leaned my rifle against it, produced my lunch 
and proceeded to eat. 
“Bang!” That was the report of a rifle not 
more than a mile away. I grasped my rifle and 
was all attention, for the animal that might have 
been missed and then come my way. After a 
wait of about five minutes, nothing came and I 
resumed my eating. 
