FOREST AND STREAM 
507 
How I 
I T WAS a bitter cold day in February when I 
took the train at Middleborough to meet 
Colonel Ryder for my first fox hunt. The 
colonel was an old friend of my father’s and 
of the same shade of politics, wh :h fact was 
sufficient to put the colonel on good terms with 
me. I found the colonel’s house without much 
trouble and, knocking at the door, was heartily 
received by him. All preparations were soon 
made, and with his English foxhound the colonel 
and myself betook ourselves to the train that was 
about to start for the Cape, where our hunting 
was to begin. 
We arrived at Yarmouth in due season, and 
from that station took the stage to Orleans, where 
we put up for the night, The hotel was not over¬ 
heated and the water froze in my pitcher that 
night. In the morning after a hearty breakfast 
we took the stage for Eastham, where mine host, 
Horton, held sway over the post office and the 
public who passed back and forth from Orleans 
to Provincetown. Here we were comfortably 
accommodated, and everything was in apple-pie 
order. No hostelry on the Cape could afford bet¬ 
ter accommodations or present a more satisfac¬ 
tory table. 
However, it soon began to snow and we had the 
pleasure of seeing the fields and forests in every 
direction fast being enwrapped in its fleecy folds. 
The violence of the storm did not abate, and for 
two days and nights the ceaseless snowflakes fell. 
When the storm was over and the clear blue sky 
once more appeared to our delighted vision, we 
at once took up the order of our march toward 
the beach in the direction of Wellfleet. 
The snow was fully two feet deep on the level, 
and after progressing a half mile or so the colonel 
told me to take a stand in a certain sheltered place 
which he pointed out, and said that he would go 
with his dog, an English foxfound, down to the 
beach; and, if he came across any tracks he would 
put the dog on the trail forthwith, provided the 
tracks were coming in my direction. 
After waiting for fully an hour I heard the 
barking of the dog, and knew the fox was started 
and headed toward me, and I was in good hopes 
of getting a shot. While I was expecting every 
moment to see the fox coming toward me, I soon 
found that he had struck off into a patch of 
woods some distance to my right. The dog fol¬ 
lowing in full cry, Reynard three times ran a 
circle of about half a mile in diameter before I 
moved from my stand. Then I started for the 
woods, hoping to get there before he should de¬ 
part for some other quarter. But the fox was a 
wary old subject, and he struck off in a bee-line 
toward some big timber to the northward. When 
I arrived at the woods where he had been driven 
so long I found a wood-chopper there who said 
that, if he had a gun, he could have shot the fox 
easily enough, as he saw him three times within 
easy distance. 
I had been but a few minutes with the wood- 
chopper when the colonel appeared and said it 
was a pity I had not got to the ground quicker. 
Got My First Fox 
By “Moquis.” 
As ft was, we went after the dog and, having 
found him, gave up the hunt for the day and re¬ 
turned to Horton’s. 
That night it commenced to rain, and for two 
days and nights it continued, and we had to re¬ 
main indoors and wait for better weather. 
On the morning of the third day the wind blew 
a gale and the thermometer was at zero. The 
fields and beaches were covered with ice, and 
made the most miserable following. We started 
out, however, hoping to find a trail somewhere, 
and headed toward Wellfleet, where we expected 
there would be something doing. 
Arriving at the bluffs which bordered the beach, 
As I stood ruefully looking after the escaped 
vulpes the colonel appeared and said: 
“Well, did you get him?” 
“No,” said I. 
“Where did he go?” 
“He went right into that scrub, and I lost sight 
of him at the foot of that pine tree,” I answered, 
pointing out the mark. 
The colonel went in there and presently held up 
the fox, who was as dead as a nit, and was hit 
in the neck, breast and stomach, the shot hav¬ 
ing gone clean through him. 
It may easily be believed that I was happy at 
my success, as it was the first fox I ever had a 
A Model Type of Llewellin Setter. 
the colonel told me to take a stand in a certain 
gully which he pointed out, saying that he would 
take the dog and go down the beach in hopes of 
starting a fox, as could usually be done some¬ 
where on the way. 
I was left to my own reflections for nearly an 
hour when I heard the distant baying of the dog, 
each moment drawing nearer. I cocked my gun— 
a genuine Westley Richards, and sent over as a 
sample—and waited on the alert. Presently I 
heard two reports from the colonel’s gun, and 
knew that he had seen the game. The dog con¬ 
tinued to draw nearer. 
Suddenly the fox appeared, scrambling up the 
bank and running directly toward me. I did not 
want to miss that shot and purposely held a little 
ahead of him, as he was running fast, as I hoped 
to strike him in a vital place. When I shot the 
fox’s hair brushed on end, and he snarled and 
showed his glittering teeth. I thought I must 
have shot over him, so I held my gun lower and 
fired again. The fox kept right on and passed 
me, ran into a covert hard by and then was lost 
to sight. 
chance to secure, although I had been a hunter 
for years. 
ALTITUDES IN NEW YORK. 
A number of years ago the United States Geo¬ 
logical Survey published a “Dictionary of Alti¬ 
tudes” for the entire United States (now out of 
print), but the elevations given in that volume 
were nearly all approximate and could not be 
used as a basis for work requiring accuracy and 
care. The Survey is now publishing, however, a 
number of separate bulletins, each covering one 
or more states, which when completed will form 
a valuable series because the elevations of most 
of the datum points are given. 
One of these bulletins—Bulletin 514, “Results 
of Spirit Leveling in New York, 1906 to 1911, in¬ 
clusive,” which has been issued by the Geological 
Survey, gives the elevation of more than 1,800 
datum points established, in co-operation with the 
state, and in addition more than 2,300 secondary 
elevations of well-known summits and prominent 
lakes. The highest point in the state is Mount 
Marcy, in Essex County. 5,344 feet above mean 
sea level. 
