Oct. 21, 1911-3 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
611 
on the trip, and George lamented the lost oppor¬ 
tunity, as the geese would have surely passed 
directly over him. The hunter who fired said: 
“I think I shoot, anyway.” 
We gathered at the house for dinner, which 
meal consisted of roast duck, baked potatoes 
with gravy, bread, butter and coffee. When we 
faced the table, six teal, nicely roasted with a 
slice of bacon on the breast of each, opposed us. 
When we finished a pile of cleanly picked bones 
represented all .that was left of the teal, and 
with these went the potatoes, bread, butter and 
coffee. Arthur pushed back from the table and 
said: “Well, boys, have you had enough? If 
not I'll cook what we shot this morning and 
we’ll try it over.” Such is the effect of the 
air of the sandhills as a tonic and appetizer. 
In the afternoon we took our fishing tackle to 
the river and tried long and patiently, with phan¬ 
tom minnows, spoons and frogs to make the 
acquaintance of the finny inhabitants of the 
Calamus, but to no purpose. Either it was too 
late in the season, or our lures were not to their 
liking, but the fish would not bite, so toward 
evening we took our guns to the bayou below 
the house. This was an old bend of the river 
long ago cut off by the stream washing through 
the narrow neck of land and leaving a deep 
slough bordered with willows, cottonwoods and 
high grass and much frequented by ducks. We 
had fair shooting, though it was late and nearly 
dark before the ducks came in, and we were 
glad to reach the house and warm up by the 
cow chip fire in the cook stove, while Arthur 
cooked supper. This fuel makes a hot, clear fire 
with no smoke and little or no unpleasant odor. 
The second night was cold and we filled the 
stove and closed the drafts when we went to 
bed, but in spite of this it was decidedly chilly 
in the morning when we awoke at dawn. The 
supply of fuel was low, and after a vain attempt 
to rouse George and convince him it was his 
duty to gather chips, I dressed, took the sack in 
which we gathered the bois dcs vaches, and pro¬ 
ceeded toward the flat to get fuel. The sight of 
a coyote sneaking along the bluff sent me back 
for my gun, and once more I sought to arouse 
George to a sense of his responsibilities. He 
was obdurate. “To the hay for me until break¬ 
fast is ready; let the poor work,” he said. 
Faring forth in the uncertain light of the 
early dawn I found the coyote had vanished, so 
I filled the chip sack and was about to go back 
to the house when there was a hissing of wings 
overhead as a flock of mallards with set pinions 
sailed over the bluff and slid down their airy 
pathway toward the bayou, passing close over 
my head. The gun was some distance away, 
where it was left when gathering fuel, so I had 
no opportunity for a shot. Gun in hand, the 
shelter of the willow was reached, and looking 
toward the east end of the bayou I saw about 
fifty mallards among the rushes and weeds close 
to shore. Creeping along in the cover of the 
grass I was about close enough for a shot when 
two ducks in the open water to the left sprung 
up and gave the alarm. The big flock rose and 
flew across directly in front of me, and a shot 
from each barrel dropped four of them in the 
water. A lone drake at the further end of the 
bayou followed the flock, and as he passed high 
overhead was dropped with a broken wing al¬ 
most at my feet and retrieved before he could 
get to the water. 
The mallards flew down the river, turned and 
came back. As they passed over my head two 
shots brought an equal number of ducks tumb¬ 
ling into the bayou. The birds were retrieved 
by cautious wading and the aid of a pole cut 
from the willows, and with my burden of ducks 
and fuel I met George as he came to the well 
for water. "Got sore and shot all the ducks 
you could see, didn’t you?” he said. Thus is 
virtue and industry rewarded. After breakfast 
we stationed ourselves around the bayou, and 
by patient waiting, combined with some good 
shooting by Arthur and George, acquired quite 
a bunch of ducks. Having enough game for our 
wants, we spent the best part of the afternoon 
playing cards and resting, and went to the bayou 
again at night where, for a few minutes just be¬ 
fore dark, the ducks came fast and afforded good 
shooting at hard chances. The result of the day 
was a nice bunch of mallards with a few tea 1 , 
widgeon and canvasbacks. 
Toots rode over from his ranch that evening 
and spent the night with us. The next morning 
we loaded up and started for his place, going 
along the river bottom part of the way. About 
noon we arrived at the De Laschmutt Ranch, 
and a short distance from the house stopped to 
fish at a deep hole in the river, where the year 
previous George Smith, Sr., had caught fine 
strings of black bass and wall-eyed pike, and 
we firmly expected to equal or surpass his rec¬ 
ord, but no such luck was ours, the fish abso¬ 
lutely refused their part in the play. 
We watered and fed the mules, cooked and 
ate dinner outdoors in the bright sunshine, and 
then went to the ranch house where several large 
springs came out of the bank just below the 
house. On the wet ground where the spring 
water flowed on its way to the river, there were 
literally hundreds of jacksnipe, but these were 
wild, and after a few shots left us. We left De 
Laschmutt’s soon after for Toots’ ranch where 
we arrived about 4 o’clock and put up for the 
night. The mistress of the house was away 
spending a few days at Burweil, so we con¬ 
tinued to live in bachelor style. 
There were several large cornfields on the 
ranch and we hunted through these for grouse. 
There were many birds, but they were wild, and 
the sandburrs made the going hard for the dogs. 
Indeed, the bitch played out entirely and lay 
down with her feet full of burrs. The setter, 
Freckles, did not mind the burrs so much, which 
Arthur explained by saying, “Freckles’ feet were 
full of burrs long ago, so a few more don’t hurt 
him any.” In the cornfields we picked up a few 
birds, missing many long and difficult shots. We 
spent the night at Toots’ and in the morning 
hunted around the edge of the corn. The birds 
were not so wild as the night before, the dogs 
worked better, and we picked up several birds 
which, added to those of the previous evening 
shoot and the ducks, made an imposing array. 
At noon we packed all our belongings and 
pulled out for Burweil, which was reached about 
dark. A bath, shave and clean clothing made 
us feel different to say the least, and the clean 
beds in Mrs. Smith’s guest room brought sleep 
deep and profound. Early Monday morning we 
left for home, an almost uninterrupted journey 
of over 400 miles, arriving at 10 p. m. Mr. 
Smith, Sr., accompanied us and stood the jour¬ 
ney very well. We had all the shooting any 
reasonable sportsman con’d wish, but to me the 
best of the trip was the generous treatment by 
Arthur Smith and his family, the bracing air 
and the pure water of the hills, the freedom 
from restraint of walls and fences, which re¬ 
vived long dormant memories of old times when 
the prairies were open and free from fence, and 
the hunter wandered at his own sweet will. If 
I live I am going again. 
New Publications. 
In Forbidden Seas, by H. J. Snow, F.R.G.S. 
Cloth, 303 pages, illustrated, $3.50 net. New 
York, Longmans, Green & Co. 
There were few pursuits so perilous as sea 
otter hunting in the old days in the Northwest¬ 
ern Pacific Ocean and the islands east and north¬ 
east of the Japanese group, as witness the long 
list of vessels and crews reported lost at sea or 
wrecked on reef and island. Despite this it was 
a fascinating game of chance, and one not with¬ 
out romance. Few men who engaged in otter 
hunting are better qualified than Mr. Snow to 
write of its many aspects, and he took advant¬ 
age of the periods of enforced idleness—on one 
voyage his schooner was idle 65 out of 88 days 
because of fogs—to collect material of great 
value to science. He has already published 
“Notes on the Kuril Islands,” since printed in 
Japanese by that Government; and his surveys 
and charts of the islands are standard in the 
British and Japanese navies. Part of the present 
volume is devoted to the Kuril Islands, the bal¬ 
ance to otter hunting and to adventure ashore 
and on the high seas, in storm and calm. 
The River and I, by John G. Neihardt. Cloth, 
325 pages, with 50 illustrations, $2 net. New 
York, G. P. Putnam’s Sons. 
On one of the hazy days of October the sports¬ 
man who can withstand the charm of the Mis¬ 
souri River and not wander along its shores and 
its sandbars, with or without a gun, is rare. On 
such a day, no matter where one who knows 
the old river may be, Mr. Neihardt’s book is 
sure to bring solace. It tells of a voyage of sev¬ 
eral thousand miles on this waterway, of its 
traditions and its part in the history of the West. 
Romance, adventure, fact and fable are woven, 
as only the Nebraska poet can weave them, into 
a story of which one cannot tire, while in the 
many illustrations the reader will see reproduced 
many places of interest with which he is familiar 
in one way or another. 
The Cabin, by Stewart Edward White. Cloth, 
283 pages, illustrated from photographs, $1.50 
net. New York, Doubleday, Page & Co. 
When the author and his wife, on their ram¬ 
bles over the sierras of California, found a place 
which met with their ideas as to the site for 
a summer home, they camped, secured help and 
built a cabin. It was 6,500 feet above tidewater, 
far from a supply point, but they spent several 
summers in the cabin, and the story of their ex¬ 
periences and observations is full of homely in¬ 
terest for Western people, while, as for the 
others, they like to read everything White has 
produced. 
The Forest and Stream may be obtained from 
any newsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to 
supply you regularly. 
