570 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[ April 13, 1907. 
* 
Wolf Creek, where, on the south side of the 
stream, we came across foot tracks where seven 
men had been walking. Jack declared that 
they were Blackfeet. They had passed along 
that morning. Evidently they had tried to find 
the Crow village, but had missed it. I tcld Jack 
that this war party would go to Deep Creek, 
and would run off some miner’s horses, and 
would also take in a miner if the opportunity 
offered. Afterwards we learned that some war 
party about his time did kill a miner and run 
off a number of horses. 
We passed on, traveling in draws and hollows 
as much as possible, until we reached Willow 
Creek. The antelope and a few buffalo were 
feeding quietly; a sure sign that no Indians were 
about, and that there had been none before our 
arrival. The grass was good and we camped 
and cooked our tongue, enjoying a feast fit for 
the gods of old, as mountain men have it. 
We did not travel fast or far, but kept our 
horses in prime condition, so that if in case of 
any emergency we were forced to make fast time, 
we could get away and keep from being made 
bald-headed. 
We were not disturbed over the night, and 
the next morning we were off at daylight. The 
game still fed about us undisturbed. We crossed 
Plum Creek (Judith River) and discovered sev¬ 
eral pony tracks some days old. We concluded 
that the riders were Crows. 
At length we got to the Medicine Springs be¬ 
tween the Moccasin Mountains. The Crow vil¬ 
lage had been there, but had gone. We fol¬ 
lowed their trail until dark, and camped at the 
east end of the Judith Mountains. The next 
morning. Jack went to the top of a high butte, 
called Black Butte, and swept the surrounding 
prairie with a powerful field glass, but discovered 
no sign of village smokes. Now began the dan¬ 
gerous part of our trip. A comparatively open 
country lay before us. To follow the lodge pole 
trail was dangerous, yet that was our only means 
of finding the Crow village. All Indian war 
parties are likely to follow the village trail of 
those they are after. Jack said that there were 
two more Blackfoot war parties out besides the 
one that had gone up Wolf Creek, but these 
parties we did not fear, because they were on 
foot. The result might be different if we came 
in contact with either Sioux, Cheyennes or 
Arapahoes, who always go to war mounted, and 
in force. We could easily stand off eight or 
twelve Indians, but fifty or one hundred is a 
different matter. Nevertheless we had to take 
the risk. 
Before starting, we put everything in prime 
order. If some persons had been present I think 
they would have believed that we were prepar¬ 
ing for a desperate fight or a desperate retreat. 
[to be continued.] 
April. 
Rain and snow and ice and cold, 
And then a bluebird’s song, 
And opal tints among the dead brown leaves, 
W here sweet hepaticas unfold 
Their starry blooms. 
ONE OF THE SILENT CONTINGENT. 
March 4 .—Editor Forest and Stream: I inclose $3 
check, subscription to your splendid paper. Am among 
the many silent appreciative readers. Began reading 
about twenty-five years since. Forest and Stream 
should be in the hands of every one who loves God’s 
out-of-doors.—L. M. Elwell. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
One night in February the public room of the 
hotel at Indian Lake, in the Adirondacks, was 
filled with men who had attended the weekly 
lodg<? meeting and had stopped in on their way 
home to warm up—for the mercury was drop¬ 
ping, ever dropping toward the 30 degrees be¬ 
low mark—when the telephone bell rang and our 
driver took down the receiver and talked awhile 
with some one at a village twenty miles away, 
then announced that-, a well-known 
trapper, had probably been frozen to death. 
Comments on the rumor, and on the man, ran 
around the room until the men, one by one, put 
on their heavy mittens and took their departure. 
Next morning the mercury was below 30 degrees 
and a keen wind cut our faces as we drove 
across the cleared hills toward Cedar River. 
At Pelon’s camp on the Flow we stopped at 
noon, and from him learned that the report was 
not true, though it came very close to the 
fact. Early that morning Pelon, who had been 
called up by telephone, put on his snowshoes 
and followed the road to the place where the 
trapper had left the log-sled on which he had 
ridden that far with his outfit of traps, bedding 
and ‘‘booze.” The latter he carried in a bottle, 
with a much larger quantity under his own skin, 
and when he started into the woods, as the 
driver stated, he apparently “didn't care whether 
school kept or not.” His trail was plain, though 
exceedingly crooked, and Pelon followed it with 
all haste possible until he came to a rifle stand¬ 
ing barrel down alongside the trapper’s trail. 
Further on a snowshoe stood upright, then the 
other one. Beyond the trail showed where the 
man had floundered helplessly in the three feet 
of dry snow and here and there were portions 
of his outfit. Not far beyond Pelon found 
-- under a balsam fir, only half covered 
by his blankets, fully dressed, sound asleep and 
snoring as regularly as though a roaring fire was 
comforting him instead of the bitter cold. 
Despite his exposure the old trapper was none 
the worse for his experience, and after kind- 
hearted Pelon had helped him collect his out¬ 
fit he went on toward his camp in the deep 
forest as if “lying out” all night were a mere 
incident in his life of hardship. 
* * * 
Mr. Charles Hallock sends me the following, 
which appeared in the Washington Herald, with 
the comment, “This beats Raisuli”: 
“I recall in this connection a story of which 
Lord Granville Gordon, younger brother and 
heir to Lord Huntley, premier marquis of Scot¬ 
land, was the hero. He had gone into the wilds 
of Albania on a shooting expedition, and while 
there was most hospitably entertained for sev¬ 
eral weeks by an old chief, who put him in the 
way of splendid sport. It was only on his re¬ 
turn to civilization, after a prolonged stay in 
the mountains, that the English consular 
officials, and subsequently his relatives and 
friends, were amazed to find that his ears were 
still in their usual place and that he possessed 
the normal number of fingers—for during his 
absence messages had been received from the 
chief in question saying that Lord Granville 
Avas being held for ransom, and that unless 
$30,000 was paid for his ransom he would be put 
to death. 
“The old chieftain had accompanied his sec¬ 
ond demand for money by an ear, which he de¬ 
clared had been cut off the head of Lord Gran¬ 
ville, subsequent demands for money being ac¬ 
companied by another ear and by several fingers, 
said to have been those of the historic house of 
Gordon. Now, although ‘Grannie’ Gordon is 
not particularly popular among the members of 
his family, who. like many of his acquaintances, 
are of the opinion that his death would not be 
an overwhelming loss, still the idea of his thus 
being slowly sliced to pieces seemed so particu¬ 
larly horrible that an effort was made and the 
money raised and dispatched. Those who con¬ 
tributed thereto have always been troubled since 
then by doubts as to whether Lord Granville 
himself was not the instigator of the scheme 
and a party thereto, their suspicions being 
strengthened by the fact that on his emerging 
from the wilds of Albania without any trace 
of mutilation he was exceptionally flush of 
money, a somewhat unusual condition of 
affairs.” 
* * * 
Last autumn, a Philadelphia reader wrote to a 
friend in Virginia, asking him Avhat the pros¬ 
pects were for the winter’s duck shooting in 
the south. The friend is one who has spent the 
greater part of his life close to nature in the 
woods and on the plains, and the reply that he 
sent to this letter is so full of good sense and 
hunting philosophy that many a reader will enjoy 
it. His letter says : 
“Can you tell me what the condition of the 
stock market will be three months from to-day; 
or what the weather will be like three weeks 
from now? But I guess that’s enough and that’s 
the way of this duck question. This year has 
been very warm so far and very few ducks, yet 
the ‘persimmon trees are loaded,’ muskrats are 
building high, squirrels are laying spruce buds 
high, and even the ‘pigs’ melt’ speaks volumes 
for a hard winter. I have not consulted the 
chicken’s breast-bone, but presume like the other 
sure things it would foretell a tough winter, but 
it has not been here yet and neither are the 
ducks. By the last of the month there may be 
some and you can get some quail shooting at 
Jones’. 
“Smith and I were on the marsh yesterday 
afternoon but he did not get a shot. This is 
the second time this year I have got skunked. 
So you see I can’t advise. I think January will 
be our best month, but who knows ?” 
* * * 
What is a frog skin—leather or fish skin? A 
Japanese importing firm of New York claims that 
the skin of a frog should be admitted to this coun¬ 
try duty free as a fish skin; for, it holds, frogs’ 
legs are always seen under the caption “Fish" 
on restaurant menus. The Federal Govern- 
men ignores this contention, however, and has 
instructed the collectors to assess a duty of 20 j 
per cent, ad valorem on frog skins, which are, 
to be admitted as leather, as they are used in j 
the manufacture of money purses and similar 
goods. Grizzly King. 
