9 2 FOREST AND STREAM. [Jan. 19,1907 
the rising sun, and there he commenced to go 
his rounds, the faint bay of the hound occasion¬ 
ally floating down to us after long intervals of 
silence. 
After waiting half an hour, in the vain hope 
of bunny coming down again, I started up, al¬ 
though I knew it would be a tough job, while 
Lars was to stay below in case he came down. 
The first part of the way was not so bad. Al¬ 
though the snow was soft and deep, the birch 
woods were pretty open, and by zigzagging, I 
advanced slowly but steadily until two-thirds of 
the way up, at the timber line. Here the scrub 
birch were so interwoven that I could not get 
through with the skis and had to take them off, 
and it was only by hard work I got through. 
As the woods were left behind there was a 
smooth, hard crust on the snow that held me 
up, but as I advanced the grade got steeper and 
presently it was only by going on all fours and 
digging the toes of my shoes into the crust I 
could advance at all. I had just managed to 
get to a place where it was possible to stand 
upright, when Jessie was heard approaching 
and bunny came along with long elastic jumps, 
passing me some sixty or seventy yards away, 
too far for a certain shot. 
Presently Jessie appeared and a hard time 
she had, poor girl, as she came along the steep 
grade on the hard crust, slipping every once in 
a while and .sliding down, letting out some des¬ 
perate yelps until she managed to check her 
downward course. The chase passed along out 
of hearing, and as it was hard telling where 
bunny would go, I sat down on a convenient 
stone to have a smoke and a look around at 
the magnificent scenery. At my feet was the 
deep blue water of the Sound with its ships and 
boats; on the other side the town with its 
churches and houses, all on a Liliputian scale; 
behind me were mountain top by mountain top 
flashing white in the sunlight, while the valleys 
showed like cracks in a frozen sea; over all a 
cloudless sky with the-blessed sun that per¬ 
forms such wonders in this part of the world. 
The pipe was pretty near smoked out and the 
keen wind commenced to make me, in my per¬ 
spiration-soaked condition, shiver, when down 
in the valley the chase was heard again. Faintly 
it floated up to me, and I waited expectantly 
for the boom of Lars’ gun, as I heard it com¬ 
ing his way. Nothing was heard, however, 
from him, and the chase continued on, turning 
up the mountain in my direction, when about 
half way it turned to the left along a sort of a 
ledge and disappeared in the distance. The 
thing for me was to get to that ledge before 
bunny came around again, and as the easiest 
and quickest way to get down was to slide, I 
sat down and “slid,” offering a fervent prayer 
that the. cloth wouldn’t give out. 
Getting to the skis, I strapped them on, and 
after an exciting run, including a tumble (a 
regular “header"), the ledge was reached just 
as Jessie was heard coming down the valley 
again, passing over exactly the same course as 
before. Nothing was heard from Lars (he 
wasn’t on to the racket yet), and the chase 
turned my way; nearer and nearer and presently 
bunny appeared on the scene, some 200 yards 
away, coming directly toward me, looking very 
pretty in his snow-white coat with black ear- 
tips. When within some 35 yards, the old gun 
roared and bunny turned a sommersault, and 
was gone to the “happy hunting grounds.” 
A loud “doat!” (signifying dead) from me 
' was answered by Lars below, and then the hare 
was opened, the intestines taken out, Jessie 
getting the heart, livdr and lungs. To replace 
them a bunch of pine twigs was thrust into the 
abdominal cavity, so as to give the full appear¬ 
ance he had before the “operation.” 
Putting on the skis, I took a straight shoot 
down the mountain and joined Lars in a few 
minutes. The chase had lasted some three 
hours, practically without a stop, which made 
me rather proud of the bitch, as crusted snow 
holds the scent poorly. Lars was a convert to 
the new way of hunting, and although he had 
no chance to shoot, was very enthusiastic. The 
very last words he said, when he followed me to 
the steamer a couple of days later, was: “Don’t 
forget to send me a pup.” Chr. G. 
Camp Don’t Hurry. 
VI.—Jim Curtis. 
Thus far fishing on the Esopus had been good 
during nearly all our stay, so that we were able 
to take as many trout as we needed for camp 
use, during an hour or two at evening. Prob¬ 
ably it would have been all right in the early 
morning too, but we did not know that, for the 
sleeping was also good. 
There seemed to be plenty of California rain¬ 
bow trout, which ran about ten or eleven inches 
in length, and they were well scattered through 
the stream, so that it did not matter much where 
we fished, since there was almost no really still 
water. We preferred to hunt for the German 
brown variety. Of the latter kind there were not 
so many, but they were very large and gamy, and 
we soon came to know their haunts. We felt 
better satisfied with an evening’s fishing after 
having tussled with and landed one of these, than 
to have caught a basket full of smaller fish. 
The antics of the dogs were a continual source 
of amusement to us. One day as I returned 
from fishing, I poked my way through the thicket 
of willow bushes which fringed the stream, and 
striking onto the sandy flat below the springs, 
started across it for camp. In the center of this 
flat was a small pool of clear water, and its glis¬ 
tening surface reflected the mellow light which 
sifted in through the scattering leaves of the 
young maples. _ As I neared the pool I saw the 
pup Terry sitting motionless on its edge gazing 
into its crystal depths seriously, as if his soul 
was heavily burdened. His naturally solemn face 
wore its most dismal look, and he seemd to be 
in the full enjoyment of one of those haven’t- 
got-a-friend-in-the-world spells, which come to 
boys in their teens. 
This was a favorite performance of Terry’s, 
and we had often seen him doing the same thing 
m the s’me place. I was curious to see what 
he thought about it, and stepping behind a large 
hemlock, I picked up a pebble and tossed it into 
the pool. He started a little, and stared quizzi¬ 
cally at the spot where the stone had fallen. 
Then turning his head slowly around, he looked 
in all directions for the intruder. After a bit 
he spied me, and if it is possible for a dog to 
look silly, he certainly looked like a youth who 
has been caught writing his first love poem. For 
afi instant his confusion lasted, and then throw¬ 
ing sorrow to the winds, he came bounding to¬ 
ward me, with his bushy tail swinging in circles, 
and his long soft ears flapping up and down. 
The ideas the dogs formed of ethics in camp 
life, were sometimes very curious. For instance, 
Lassie detected the fact that the spring from 
which we took our drinking water was colder 
than several others, which were fully as accessi¬ 
ble, although an actual test by the thermometer 
showed only a scant decree of difference. She 
insisted upon drinking there from the first, and 
while it was not exactly the place we would 
have selected for her, we did not seriously ob¬ 
ject, since it ran a fairly swift current. As the 
season advanced and warmer weather made her 
heavy coat burdensome, she chose the same spot 
as a bath tub, and succeeded in using it a num¬ 
ber of days for that purpose before we detected 
her. We had often wondered why it was oc¬ 
casionally found in such a roily condition. 
To this proceeding we positively objected, and 
Henry spent a couple of hours building a neat 
rustic fence about three feet high around the 
spring. As he climbed up the bank after his 
labors, and turned to view his handiwork, Lassie 
came rushing over the loose sand, intent upon a 
bath. She had been having rather a heated ex¬ 
perience, digging out a woodchuck in a neigh¬ 
boring field, and was disappointed at finding her 
way to a cool bath blocked. She looked per¬ 
plexed for a minute, and then nimbly leaping 
over the fence came down with a splash into 
the water. Henry sighed, and shouldering his 
ax, started out to cut poles for a cover to put 
over the fence. 
At the foot of ‘the bluff, in a hollow chestnut, 
a red squirrel had his home, and whenever he 
found it necessary to come down onto the 
ground, the dogs seemed to know it, although he 
was entirely hidden from camp. They might be 
sleeping ever so soundly in the sunshine, and the 
flies might walk over their ears unnoticed, but 
let that squirrel stir a dry leaf in search of food 
or water, and they were up and off with a rush. 
He seemed to know their habits as well as they 
knew his, so they never got within catching dis¬ 
tance of him. When he heard them coming, he 
scratched his way up the rough bark of the tree, 
and seating himself safely on the first limb, 
scolded them vigorously. After they had watched 
him a minute, with their tails wagging in a 
chagrined sort of way, and Lassie had given a 
parting yelp, they returned to their beds and in 
a short time were dreaming again. 
One afternoon I took my wading boots to the 
village to have them tapped. I found a cobbler 
and had a good visit with him while the re¬ 
pairs were being made. He was not quite the 
sort of a character one would have expected tolj 
find. Although his tall, thin frame bore the 
weight of well toward four score years, it was 
still erect, and his step was light and steady. 
FT is neatly shaven face was finely chiseled and 
his eyes were bright and quick. Only the wax- 
stained fingers, bent by years of holding the awl, 
betrayed the shoemaker. 
“Can you tap these boots and drive in some 
heavy nails while I wait?” 
“I think so, sir,” he replied. “Let me see 
them;” and picking up each boot separately he 
critically inspected the soles and heels. “I’ll 
put on a good tough lift of leather, and will 
these nails 4 , be heavy enough ?” he asked, turn¬ 
ing out some from a paper box and holding them 
up for my inspection. When I told him that the 
nails would answer, he said: 
“You just take a seat; that chair is a little: 
rickety, but I guess it will hold you, and I’ll go, 
right at them, for there won’t be anybody after 
these shoes I’m working on before to-morrow.” 
As leaning forward and reaching out to a little 
clutter of leather remnants, he selected one which 
after bending, and otherwise examining, seemed 
to suit his purpose, he asked: 
“Are you one of the party who are camping 
up at the mouth of the Bushkill ?” 
I assured him that I was, and then as he set 
■ one boot upon the leather and carefully marked 
around it, with the back of his knife, he pro¬ 
ceeded to remark. 
“The fishing must be very good now, for I 
see them bringing quite a lot by here. They 
seem to be mostly German browns, but I don’t 
like them as well to eat as I did our native 
trout. When I was a boy these streams around 
here used to be full of speckled trout, but later 
the tanneries killed them most all off.” 
“Have you always lived in these parts?” I 
asked? 
“Yes,” he replied, “all but a few years I- was I 
out west. I didn’t like it there very well and came 
back. You see, I used to fish and hunt a good 
deal over these mountains, when I was younger, 
and the flat country out there never seemed Tike 
home to me. It’s a long time now since I’ve done 
much fishing or hunting. The old dog is dead, 
and the gun got rusty, and I’m not so spry as I 
used to be. I fished though, some, after I quit 
hunting, for I didn’t have to climb the hills to do 
that, but I gave my fish pole to my grandson 
when he was a little boy, and now he’s a man 
grown.” 
Picking up a whetstone, he gave his thin knife 
three or four vigorous strokes back and forth 
across it, and finished the sharpening on the 
strap which was glued to a beveled strip on his 
bench. Then as he took the leather from the 
pail of water, where it had been soaking, and 
slowly shaped the taps, I could see that his mind 
was far away. I suspected he was thinking .of 
people whom I never knew, and times which I 
could not remember. Not wishing to disturb 
the old man’s reveries, I sat still and watched 
him cut and' fit, until finally he struck the first 
blow with his hammer, and that seemed to bring 
him back. When by pounding the leather on the 
smooth lapstone, with his curiously formed ham¬ 
mer, he had fashioned it to suit him, he said: 
“There, I guess we are ready to nail them on 1 
now.” 
While he alternately nricked holes and drove 
nails, I asked him if he had always had his shop 
in Unasego. 
