6 io 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 17, 1909. 
maj- interest the reader, and will certainly be 
a gratification to me to state, that almost with¬ 
out exception, they are genuine reproductions 
of camp-fire stories. 
It was near the close of an October day that 
our party reached a small lake in Deer Valley. 
As we proposed to pass several days in the 
vicinity, more than usual care was taken in 
selecting a camping place. The spot finally 
chosen was on a point of land extending into 
the water, covered with large trees, while the 
ground was free from underbrush and softly 
carpeted with spruce needles. The camp was 
soon finished, the night wood collected, and we 
strolled down to the water’s edge to watch the 
sun disappear among the treetops of a distant 
mountain range. The valley was several miles 
in extent, and surrounded on all sides by high 
hills or mountain peaks, some of whose jagged 
ridges were brought into bold relief by the light 
of the setting sun, while others were dim with 
the gloom of approaching darkness. Wildair, 
who, as usual, was moving restlessly around 
from place to place, soon called our attention 
to a discovery he had made. About half way 
up the slope from the water to the level on 
which our camp was pitched he had found the 
remains of what had evidently been a log hut. 
At first it appeared only like an irregular 
mound of earth, but, on removing the moss 
with which it was covered, a pile of half-de¬ 
cayed logs was disclosed, and a further investi¬ 
gation showed a quantity of stones of consider¬ 
able size, which had probably been used as a 
fire-place. Our curiosity was greatly excited, 
and many surmises were ventured as to its 
origin and its occupant and his fate. 
“I think I know something about this, boys,” 
said Temple, who had been quiet while the rest 
of us were talking. “I thought this point of 
land was where the story was laid, and that was 
one reason why I proposed camping here; but 
I did not expect to find any remains of the hut 
—in fact, I did not half believe it ever existed, 
but here it is certainly.” 
“A story. Temple?” said Wildair. “As dis¬ 
coverer of this relic, I take the liberty to invite 
you to dispel the mystery surrounding it. What 
say you, campers?” 
Of course the invitation was cordially en¬ 
dorsed. 
“Very well,” replied Temple; “I will tell the 
story or legend, or whatever it is—after supper.” 
We returned to our camp, the log-pile was 
lighted, the provisions unpacked, and every 
member of the party'was soon busy with the 
cooking. It was a primitive and picturesque 
scene. Jesse squatted upon the ground, hold¬ 
ing a rabbit over the blaze on the end of a 
long stick; Wildair was opposite him with a 
partridge; Temple was making tea and burning 
his face and fingers at the same time; Lincoln 
was toasting bread on a forked stick; and I— 
well I was leaning against a mighty spruce, 
overlooking matters, and now and then offering 
suggestions, which were usually met with a 
good-natured laugh. There is some advantage 
in being an amateur woodsman and not know¬ 
ing how to do things. 
Supper over and fresh fuel added to the fire, 
we were ready for the promised story. 
“This valley, as I have been told,” remarked 
Temple, as he tossed back the firebrand with 
which he had lighted his pipe, “was formerly a 
great resort of deer, hence its name. In the 
winter especially they came here to yard, being 
in a degree protected by the surrounding hills 
from the fierce blasts and driving storms, and 
also finding here a good supply of hemlock and 
juniper on which to feed. Now, some years 
after the first settlement of this section of the 
country, when, between their natural enemies 
the wolves and the wholesale slaughter by un¬ 
principled hunters, the deer were becoming 
scarce, a law was passed protecting them in 
their yards, but I suspect it was little respected. 
Certainly they were almost extinct in this 
region at my earliest recollection. It was 
previous to the passage of the act I have men¬ 
tioned that the events which you wish me to 
relate are said to have occurred. 
“At that time Black Tom appeared among 
the settlers. Where he came from no one knew, 
for he was a silent, morose man, little given to 
talking of his own affairs; and what his real 
name was I have never been able to learn. He 
was generally known as Black Tom on account 
of his dark hair and skin, and as Black Tom he 
has come down to the present time. He made 
no friends among the settlers, and it was a re¬ 
lief to all when he betook himself to this valley 
and built the hut we have just discovered—for 
that it was his I have no doubt, as he is the 
only person who is known to have lived here, 
and the descriptions of its location correspond 
with this place. 
“Black Tom was a man of no regular em¬ 
ployment. If anything, he was a hunter and 
trapper, and you can understand that his ap¬ 
pearance in this valley was unfortunate for its 
previous inhabitants. As I have said, our an¬ 
cestors were not overscrupulous in the matter 
of slaughtering game, but stories of the doings 
of Black Tom soon reached their ears and 
roused their indignation. A party of hunters 
passing through here in the winter carried the 
news that the valley was an immense slaughter- 
pen; that the snow was red with the blood of 
hundreds of deer slain in their yards where they 
huddled together like sheep, and were shot down 
by Black Tom; that their frozen carcasses lay 
everywhere, while there was scarcely a tree 
around Black Tom’s cabin on which was not 
hung the skins of the animals. The small price 
which the skins were worth was the only 
motive, if motive there was, for the indiscrimi¬ 
nate slaughter. 
“A sort of mass-meeting of the settlers was 
held, and a committee of half-a-dozen appointed 
to visit Black Tom and remonstrate with him 
upon his course. The report brought back was 
such as had been expected. Black Tom received 
them gruffly enough; listened to their com¬ 
plaints with an evil light in his eye, advised 
them to go home and attend to their own affairs 
if they had any that needed attention, threw his 
heavy rifle over his shoulder and disappeared 
in the woods. 
“A few days later, according to the tradition. 
Black Tom had another visitor. This time it 
was a dark man like himself, with bright twink¬ 
ling eyes, and a smile, half amused and half 
sarcastic, playing over his thin lips. Like Tom, 
too, he was rather silent, tie seated himself 
upon a log opposite one on which Tom was sit¬ 
ting, and the two eyed each other without 
speaking until Tom was as near getting nervous 
as such a person could be. 
“ “'Well, Tom,’ said the stranger at last, 
‘seems to be rather good hunting about 
here.’ 
“ ‘It suits me,’ replied Tom, surlily. 
“ ‘But it does not quite suit me,’ continued 
the other in a mild voice. ‘You know I told 
you when you came here to kill all the deer 
you could use, but not to murder—I believe 
that is what people call it—for sport, I must 
now protect my game.’ 
“‘Your game!’ roared Tom in a passion. 
‘And who may you be?’ 
“The stranger smiled. ‘One who does not 
always get his dues. Just now I am looking 
after a little matter in this neighborhood, and 
incidentally I shall serve the deer, probably 
without ever getting credit for it. Please re¬ 
member,’ he added with a polite bow, ‘no more 
deer than you need,’ and the dark man turned 
upon his heel and disappeared behind a clump 
of bushes. 
“Tom seized his rifle and rushed after him— 
with what intent I do not* know—but the 
stranger was not to be seen. And, what struck 
Tom as rather singular, he could not track him 
in the light snow. 
“Tom was unusually moody and savage the 
remainder of the day. The stranger’s visit im¬ 
pressed him disagreeably. At night he had un¬ 
pleasant dreams. Once a procession of a thou¬ 
sand deer filed past him, with their life-blood 
streaming from ugly wounds, and their mild 
eyes fixed reproachfully upon him. But with 
daylight he was all right again, he said to him¬ 
self, and in the afternoon he took his rifle and 
struck a fresh yard, killing a dozen deer. 
“That evening Tom came out of his cabin 
and went down to the lake for water. The 
moon was shining brightly, and from the 
shadows on the opposite shore he saw emerge 
a stately buck. The animal advanced slowly 
over the solid ice directly toward him. Se¬ 
curing his rifle, he eagerly awaited its approach. 
'When thirty yards distant, he fired at it. The 
buck stopped and fixed a pair of unusually 
bright eyes upon the bush behind which Tom 
lay concealed. The rifle was reloaded, and tak¬ 
ing deliberate aim, Tom fired again. The buck 
did not move. It was nearly as light as day; 
the sights of the gun were plainly visible; Tom 
could not understand his failure. A third time 
he fired with the same result, and then he was 
furious with passion. Throwing his rifle down, 
he drew his hunting knife and rushed toward 
the deer. It did not move until Tom was close 
upon it, when raising one forefoot, it stamped 
upon the ice. There was a crackling sound, 
followed by a crash; the ice gave way beneath 
Black Tom, and he sank into the deep water; 
then before he could help himself, the solid 
blocks rose again to the surface and resumed 
their places, leaving him prisoned beneath 
them. The last sight that met his terror- 
stricken gaze was not the coveted deer, but in 
its place stood his dark visitor of the previous 
day, and over his face played a smile that Black 
Tom had no time to fully understand.” 
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