FOREST AND STREAM 
85 
we were camped on a lonely place on the river, 
the rolling waters in front, the heavy forest 
reaching back for miles, knowing, from our 
knowledge of the country, that the nearest house 
was five miles away, and so was the railroad, 
yet here was a young man riding out of the 
dark woods mounted on a thoroughbred, English 
saddle, double bridle, curb and ring, straight 
steel bit, rider dressed in fine style, black leggins, 
cavalry jacket, gloves—right out of Central 
Park into the pines of Carolina. A merry 
laugh, a “good morning, gentlemen!’’ Sam and 
I must have looked surprised. 
I hope I do not intrude,’’ our visitor said. 
“Certainly not, will you dismount and join us 
for awhile.” 
“I will be happy to, I am sure." 
who we had for neighbors. You see there is 
quite a party of us camped back a mile or so 
from here. There are twelve persons, being two 
families, including servants and the chef. We 
were all over at Aiken. My aunt was not getting 
any better, and friends advised us to come here 
and go into camp for some time. I never saw 
a camp like this of yours; it’s just like those 
you read about; roughing it some, but being 
comfortable too. Now our camp is all fixed up. 
There is the big living tent, the dining tent, five 
sleeping tents, the kitchen tent and stable tent, 
though they are building a log stable. We 
will have four horses over there,” 
“Are you doing any game shooting?” 
“No. I never shot a gun in my life. I now 
wish I knew how to shoot. The only arms we 
Next morning about io o’clock, Edwin, accom¬ 
panying his father and aunt came to visit our 
camp. We told them all about our trip thus far 
and how far we intended going down the river, 
and the game we expected to find. All this 
was new and novel to them. At no time in their 
lives hitherto had they known of a camp hunt> 
or guns, or dogs. Before leaving us Edwin had 
his first lessons in handling the gun and the 
names of books on guns, and a lesson on am¬ 
munition—one good American boy turned—“the 
right way.” 
I was glad we camped there, if only to have 
added this recruit. Three years later I heard of 
Mr. Strang; he then owned seven guns, two of 
them high grade English guns. A gun crank 
like the rest of us. 
Two Methods of Transportation—Thole Pin and Paddle. 
“Where are you from? What brought you 
here straight from an afternoon canter in Cen¬ 
tral Park, for indeed it would seem you’re just 
from there?” 
Our visitor laughed, dismounted, shook hands 
vrith us, accepted a camp stool, and introduced 
himself as Edwin G. Strang, a New York 
Dutchess County name. I 'had heard of the 
family. Mr. Strang was a young man twenty- 
four, perhaps. 
Well, you see, said he, “we heard guns on 
the river and were anxious to meet gunners, and 
later we saw the smoke of your fire, so I thought 
I would come over and make a call, and see 
have in our camp is a 38-calibre revolver and a 
.22-calibre rifle. 
“Have you found much game?” 
We explained the situation. 
“I should like to visit you again. I think I 
will be going.” 
We gave him a cordial invitation to come and 
make himself at home, and to bring his friends. 
I also promised to teach him how to handle the 
gun. 
It fairly grieved me to see this fine type of a 
young American ignorant of how to manipulate 
a gun. 
So he mounted and rode away. 
A Mr. Gibbs lived some five miles back from 
the river. I knew he had pointer dogs, and I 
sent him a note to come and see us and bring 
a dog. This he did and knowing where to find 
some birds we had a good day’s sport and sent 
the sick lady a dozen nice quail. 
Here Edwin saw for the first time dogs work¬ 
ing on game, pointing and retrieving. He was 
amazed “that such things could be.” He has 
owned seven good dogs since then. I have al¬ 
ways been glad to open up the realness of true 
sportsmanship to those who have had no one to 
help them. Sometimes I would take a little 
(Continued on page 126.) 
