Sept. 7 , 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
299 
acorn shells near me. Instantly my reveries came 
to an end, and glancing up I searched my neigh¬ 
boring surroundings with a penetrating eye that 
took in all within my sight. 
What a hidden creature, indeed! But not 
long would he go unseen, for sharp eyes were 
watching and waiting for the tell-tale movement. 
And soon it came. There he is in that tree 
next to me, a tinge of gray in between the leaves. 
He is sitting up, with a well selected nut in his 
two paws, turning it around the while he nibbles 
at it, presenting a humorous appearance of well- 
groomed body and well-fed complacence, thor¬ 
oughly content with the world and all that is 
in it. The rifle slowly fell into position, the ham¬ 
mer dropped back, the fore finger curled around 
the trigger, and the shot rang out. Releasing 
his hold upon the branch he toppled down—down 
until he struck ground with a distinct thud. Got 
him clean through the head. Here, then, is the 
lord of them all; the very picture of luck—luck 
at its height and joyousness. I tucked him into 
the coat pocket and once more crept forward 
through the undergrowth. 
Cobwebs tangled their networks over my 
face with that uncomfortable feeling that we 
all know. I was kept busy brushing them away 
and in keeping my eyes on duty. The morning 
sun was now creeping high up on the eastern 
slant of the heavens, and into the woods those 
downpouring rays marked my path. I paused to 
take in the intrinsic beauty of the scene before 
me, and to revel at the glorious picture that it 
presented. Here was the true wonder of crea¬ 
tion ; here was nature in her sublime magnifi¬ 
cence, touched not by the tainted hands of man. 
Gone was the incessant rumble of the passing 
cars, the surging throngs of people on the city 
street, and I was given this in its place. The 
gentle murmur of the wind-stirred leaves and 
the cozy quietude that admitted of not the least 
disturbance. October was in her prime. My 
soliloquy was jarred. 
I noticed him when I came down: the path, 
strolling along leisurely with the gun in the 
crook of my arm. I had been too wrapt up in 
my reveries to think of the present, but now as 
I glanced up I saw him run across my path ahead, 
a good sprinting squirrel clad in the regulation 
coat of gray, and with his tail arched over his 
back. Up he scurried into the supposed safety 
of the tree, and commenced a harangue of ex¬ 
cited scolding that told me only too well I was 
not desired in that locality. I paused under the 
tree and looked up. He was badly frightened, 
that was certain. He shook with rage and was 
quivering all over. 
“Now, look here, Mr. Squirrel,” I had occas¬ 
ion to remark as I planted the gun butt in the 
ground and stood there looking up at him. “I 
could drop you like a bolt of lightning from the 
sky from where you now sit, but being a dead 
game sport I am going to give you a chance. 
Can you sprint across the limbs as well as 
across the ground?” 
The only remark he made to this was a con¬ 
tinuation of his past performance of barking. 
Holding the gun in my hand ready, I threw a 
stick at him to get him started. With an ex¬ 
cited jump he was off, and I was following. Up 
to the top of the tree he ran, and then paused 
for a moment ere he leaped to the next tree. 
Crack! uttered the rifle spitefully, but the 
only result I got was a few leaves that eddied 
slowdy down, just as the squirrel frantically 
leaped, and was soon darting up the other tree 
and across to another before I was well pre¬ 
pared to give chase. Stooping low I ran along 
with my eyes concentrated upon the fleeing ani¬ 
mal. Up, up, to the very tiptop branch of the 
tree, and there he rested. Crack! Again the 
rifle spit fire, but there was no evident wound. 
Hastily I slid in another cartridge. He leaped 
out into the air to cross a span of some 
ten feet. But he missed in his calculations and 
came crashing down through the tips of the out¬ 
stretched branches. Thereafter followed a bustle 
of excitement, but I got him on a running shot 
by holding just a. trifle before him as he fled 
out on a limb. Down he tumbled and I put him 
hastily out of commission. 
Now, there, I had four squirrels, as nice a 
bunch as has ever happened into the big pocket 
in a hunter’s coat. And there had been just 
enough excitement to make the bringing of them 
to earth exhilarating, and of such a nature as 
to warrant of the occasion being put down on 
the books of memory for a resurrection when 
the winter winds are howling over the gables 
and one is sitting before the fire. Truly a re¬ 
membrance that I would treasure. I skirted the 
hill leisurely, taking my time, and looking over 
every inch of my w'ay, listening to hear if there 
was any member of the tribe that I had left 
behind me whose bark would tell the tale. But 
there was no murmur in that direction, and be¬ 
fore me I noticed the end of the woods, the open 
azure sky peeping through. 
Without any further kill I made my way to 
the hill which overlooked the other side of the 
woods, and the surrounding country, and giving 
the agreed whistle, I got an answer from Fred, 
who was just rounding the edge of the woods. 
I saw the smile of elation upon his face and 
had a slinking notion his luck had been amply 
provided for. And there was a bulge in his 
pocket that told a story, mute evidence of a kill. 
“What luck?” I propounded, tapping the 
bulge with the rifle, the while I searched his 
face. “That swell on your coat must be caused 
by something vastly larger than a squirrel. I 
should judge it were a rabbit.” 
“Wrong,” said Fred, diving his hand into 
the oblivion of the outer pocket, and presently 
withdrew it and a partridge. And after the par¬ 
tridge followed three squirrels, all grays of about 
the size I had stowed away in my garment. 
“I got that fellow down there this side of 
the fence where the bushes are so thick. He 
rose and dived down into the brush over here 
and I got him just ten minutes ago. Not so bad.” 
After comparing notes and sampling each 
other's tobacco, we lit up and started across the 
fields for the next woods, which was one that 
reached over a territory covering a half mile. 
The woods reached, we decided to follow former 
tactics, agreeing to meet on a path that ran 
through the woods, and then follow on together 
for a space. The woods at this point was not 
so thick but that it would make easy walking, 
and parting from each other, we started in. 
Barely had I parted the brush to make my initial 
step forward than a rabbit hopped out and made 
away along the edge of the woods. Despairing 
of a kill I swung the rifle up and took a snap¬ 
shot and was plentifully surprised to see the 
animal topple over, get up and make away again. 
Putting speed to my legs I darted after, but try 
as I would I could not find him. I muttered 
something unpleasant under my breath and vowed 
that from now on everything should fall beneath 
my aim, or I would know the reason why. This 
determination, however, did not carry as much 
fruit as I had expected, for I covered my end 
of the woods with the result that I only dropped 
three squirrels in a place where we had expected 
to eclipse all former efforts. I stood in the path 
waiting for Fred, when all of a sudden I heard 
°his whistle, and thereafter his call that I come 
over to him. 
Wondering what was up, I hurried down 
the path to see him standing there before a giant 
oak at the bottom of which yawned a hole that 
seemed to be the entrance of one that ran the 
whole length of the tree. 
“They are in here, Bob,” he told me, with 
a smile on his face and a lifting of his eye¬ 
brows. “I chased three of the cusses into a 
hole above up there where the limbs meet. We 
will smoke them out and get the entire bunch.” 
I grasped the import of it at once. “We 
sure will,” I slangily made remark, and suiting 
action to word, we began to accumulate leaves 
and small sticks for the purpose in view. When 
we had a sufficient store we filled the cavity and 
touched the match to it. Everything favored 
us, for the tree stood all alone so that a jump 
from one to another was quite impossible. A 
roll of heavy smoke descended and I pushed the 
leaves and sticks in further. When I was sure 
that everything was ready for the show, I ran 
out, grasped my gun, and took my position. 
“Lord, here they come!” gurgled Fred glee¬ 
fully, way down in his throat somewhere, and 
directly out of the upper hole appeared a squir¬ 
rel. Bang! Fred’s gun spat fire and the first 
squirrel dropped down from his perch. The 
next moment I was busy. As the smoke mounted 
higher, others began to come out, scurrying here 
and there, and one by one we got them, striving 
always to get them on the run, which at the 
best is a very hard and difficult shot, one that 
even an expert is sometimes fooled on. We 
dropped nine reds out of that tree, much to our 
amazement. Yet there was our kill as evidence, 
and there was the tree still smoking. We had 
caught the whole family at home. 
“This,” said Fred, after we had gathered 
them in, “amounts to a good morning sport, but 
there is yet time to add a few more to our bag 
before we cross to the creek.” 
“We will leave the rest of this woods, then, 
and take in the trees down there by the pasture,” 
I suggested. “You remember we saw a bunch 
of them there just a while back.” 
Number one in the pasture trees .we struck 
as soon as we got busy. Fred saw the animal 
run up a bare, dead oak, and telling me to run 
in and get him, he followed with the camera. 
There he sat on the end of a branch, with his 
tail nodding over his back. I crept up and 
caught him just as he was about to take flight 
across the limbs. He dropped to the ground and 
I retrieved him. All unawares, Fred had shot 
me with the camera. 
The luck of the morning had been fifteen 
squirrels and one partridge for Fred and twelve 
squirrels on my part. This was sufficient, for 
the man who is not a game hog stops when he 
has killed the limit for his own use. And then 
the fire and the noonday. Thus ended a good 
day’s sport. 
