A Sojourn on Buck Bayou 
By TRIPOD 
T here was “Robinson Crusoe,” who had 
been reared on a ranch, a Texan; there 
was ‘’Scattergun,” the bird hunter from 
Tennessee, with an antipathy for rifles, and 
there was the Mississippian. There were The 
Lyoness, Madame La Belle Zona and Madame 
Siegfried, of Viking descent. These six came, 
bringing with them Deacon Bollweevil, the cook, 
and pitched their tents in a beautiful woodland, 
on a palmetto ridge of great extent, festooned 
with the wiry and impassable blackberry briers. 
Above and around the little camp the great oaks 
nodded their welcome before the autumn breezes. 
The camp was on Buck Bayou, which leads to 
Brushy Lake, beyond which it is doubtful if 
any man knows, because it is in that vast wilder¬ 
ness lying between the Yazoo and Sunflower 
rivers. 
On the first evening the Deacon produced some 
mysterious food substances by way of warning 
as to the least that might be expected, and then 
we contemplated the glowing embers and black¬ 
ening pots of the camp-fire, while Robinson 
Crusoe taught us some of the geography that 
he knows. By an early hour each pupil had 
learned such a lesson as this: “You follow this 
certain thread of a trail, which runs nearly 
west, until some distance before reaching its 
end you will see a little pile of ashes on the 
north side (if the forest fires have not burned 
these ashes up). That is where I cooked my 
dinner one day. Just beyond and on the south 
side is a large red oak tree with a small tin 
bucket at its root, if someone has not moved it. 
The bucket has a bullet hole in it. Just beyond 
the bucket is a log that has been sawn into sev¬ 
eral cuts, and one of them lies angling to the 
others. Erom the oak tree find a hack leading 
northeast and follow it 200 yards to a cypress 
brake.” 
In short, Crusoe could put one right on a 
stand while sitting at the camp-fire, but some¬ 
times he failed to get a deer to the same stand 
at the right time. 
Under the little canvas shelter, on a palmetto 
bed, living Crusoe’s geography all over again 
in dreamland. The palmetto bed is made by 
spreading unripe palmetto fans to a depth of 
four or six inches and covering this with a 
rubber blanket. Then a thin cotton pad and 
your blankets. If the night is warm you rest 
near the surface. The colder it is the deeper 
you burrow. 
But this thing of dreaming geography—even 
a palmetto bed is hardly compensation. At one 
place the thread of the trail through the sylvan 
woods got mixed up in an inextricable brier 
thicket from which violent efforts failed to find 
exit to an open cypress brake where a ten-prong 
1 Lick was browsing about with a tin can with 
a bullet hole on each prong, each can attuned 
HOW DID I MISS IT? 
to its proper note and of all music * * * it was 
the alarm clock! Four A. M. I Time to call 
the Deacon, who “sponded” and soon had coffee 
and what-nots ready. 
First day’s report: IMadame Siegfried heard 
a wild hog; I saw the hog and it saw me. It 
was wild, but this was not known until after 
the above sequence of events. It escaped in¬ 
jury. Robinson Crusoe saw two deer. He must 
have been waiting for Friday to come, because 
they both went on unharmed. 
The next day one was added to our number, 
called the “Dinkeydriver,” namely, one who con¬ 
trols the destinies of a light-draft locomotive— 
a dinkey-engine. Dinkeydriver was known to 
be a good rifle shot, hence was held in small 
esteem by Scattergun. Nevertheless he proved 
his metal—a soft nose .30-30—-and venison was 
made a prominent part of the Deacon’s per¬ 
plexities. The matter seems to have come about 
in some such way as this: Dinkeydriver was 
perched upon the limb of a tree like an eagle 
or other bird of prey, when a little deer, that 
had slipped away from its mother, trotted near. 
It was given no quarter, and being Dinkey’s first, 
he was well bespattered with blood by way of 
initiation. 
To-day Bobbie saw two wildish hogs and The 
Lyoness beheld a ’coon. She did not shoot it. 
The next morning a fair sized doe was eating 
acorns in the open woods in Buck Bayou, when 
she was shot by the Mississippian, who after¬ 
ward trailed her a hundred yards through the 
briers and fired a finishing shot. A ruse was 
then played upon Madame Siegfried, who was 
sought at her stand and invited to help trail 
a wounded deer. Right well and cautiously did 
she follow the trail of blood drops on the 
leaves, and was ready at every step to shoot the 
wounded deer that was momentarily expected to 
jump up. Finally she saw it lying prostrate, but 
was warned that deer are seldom as dead as they 
look,' and she must be ready to shoot the in¬ 
stant it moved a hair. After a few more warn¬ 
ings she approached the deer and found it to 
be dead. Later the truth leaked out, and several 
compliments were required upon Madame’s skill 
at trailing deer to free the Mississippian of the 
odium of being an impostor in whom no reliance 
could ever again be placed. There was another 
big pot of stew that evening and the Deacon 
was kept busy for a full half hour, working his 
strong right arm to the utmost, as he ladled 
thereof on to six large plates. 
Crusoe had promised Madame La Belle Zona 
that she should at least see a live deer, and 
directed her to a likely stand in a feeding ground 
at the margin of a cypress brake, where the 
woods were comparatively open. Patiently she 
stood her vigil, and patiently Crusoe nodded in 
a comfortable nook between the massive roots 
of a large oak. The Madame was so quiet that 
a wildcat, passing by that \vay, was within less 
than twenty yards when the two discovered each 
other. There are many old hunters who have 
never had the experience which Madame La Belle 
had, but it is certain that this occurred. The 
cat stopped, raised a forefoot, and scrutinized 
the formidable foe closely for an appreciable 
time; in fact, until sbe had twice, in a loud 
whisper, told Crusoe of its presence and asked 
him what should be done. She was in doubt 
because the admonition to shoot nothing but a 
deer had been very positive. Upon this second 
appeal to Crusoe—who had gone to sleep—the 
cat scented danger and bounded away. This 
was the only wildcat seen by the party. If the 
programme were to be re-enacted, Crusoe thinks 
he would stay awake. 
The following day Crusoe killed a turkey. He 
had gone for one of his all-day tramps, and 
