650 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
the tall rye, and I catch a glimpse of them teeter¬ 
ing along among the potatoes. The wooded hill 
is not far off; in its crown of evergreen the crow 
builds each year. Her shadow crosses my path. 
When she disappears in her tree there is wafted 
down to me the ecstatic tremolo of her grateful 
young. 
When the fields refuse to yield a hammer 
stone for a season I linger over the stone rows 
and poke into the crumbling walls expectantly. 
I recently discovered several of them in a wall. 
These seemed to have a more interesting history. 
What dull eye guided the numb hand to chink 
a wall with hammer stones ? I recognize them 
with half closed eyes now. I have a neighbor 
who loves a joke more than he loves Indian 
relics. Unknown to me he selected a suitable 
stone, pitted it with a nail and dropped it in my 
potato field. I soon discovered it. I tell my 
neighbor he must weather his imitations a hun¬ 
dred years or more before I shall consider 
them. 
But perhaps the chief delight is in accidental 
discoveries. What pleasure to turn one over 
with the hoe in the potatoes or to dig one up 
with the trowel in the cabbage or to discover 
one in the turnips! What a thrill it gives to 
pick one up! The years it lay neglected in “the 
murmuring pines and the hemlocks” before the 
clearing and burning, and the first plow was 
driven through its nest! I have a nest among 
the elms and maples now where I often brood 
over them and hatch out many delightful 
fancies. 
“It is a stone fruit,” says Thoreau, speaking 
of arrowheads. “Each one yields me a thought. 
I come nearer the maker of it than if I found 
his bones. * * * It is humanity inscribed on 
the face of the earth, patent to my eyes as soon 
as the snow is off, not hidden away in some crypt 
or grave, or under a pyramid.” Likewise, the 
hammer stone yields fancies; better still it has 
civilized beautiful uses. I keep one always on 
my desk. I wonder if Longfellow had such a 
paper weight. It knows such secrets of primi¬ 
tive domestic life. I take it up questioningly: 
How I would like to “pluck out the heart of its 
mystery.” 
Such happy, healthful uses ! During the long 
winter we are securely housed. Mudjekeewis 
does not whisper as softly now as when he 
wooed Wenonah. But when the April nights 
come I raise the window and set a hammer stone 
under it. It lets in the fresh smell and the 
sound of the hurrying creek. The bitter winter 
is a dream; I awake to the spring sounds and 
odors. 
Such simple, homely uses! The cradle stands 
in the alcove. It is a stanch little craft. Several 
have sailed out to boy and girlhood in it; • one 
is sailing in it now. For a season the voyage 
is uneventful, but when the little sailor sits up 
to take his first observation, the craft rolls dan¬ 
gerously. It is time then to place a hammer 
stone under the rocker and make all safe for 
the tiny navigator. 
Why should we go to the Klondike when our 
own fields are richer? Wherever I find an In¬ 
dian relic the soil seems a little deeper. My 
roots grow better on the old camp sites; I grow 
better too. The field this vanished race inhabited 
where the rye now whitens to harvest, the hurry¬ 
ing creek, the wooded hill, delight me with their 
primitive beauty and mystery. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
Mr. Lippincott’s interesting story of the two 
friends who failed to agree while in camp dur¬ 
ing unpleasant weather — printed recently in 
Forest and Stream— appealed to me. I have 
had similar experiences. One of them may be 
worth relating, for some good came of the use 
of drastic measures which, at the time, seemed 
of doubtful value: 
I had a friend whose companionship I always 
sought in town. He was altogether ■a friend 
worth having. Time passed and I invited him 
to join me in a month’s trip in the woods. Our 
plans completed, we left civilization by water in 
a canoe. The entire outfit was mine, but be¬ 
sides chipping in for the provisions, Charles 
took with him a brush and comb, a toothbrush, 
a whisk broom, a small mirror and a combina¬ 
tion nail file and scissors. 
We camped late the first night, but in the 
morning Charlie attended to his personal ap¬ 
pearance while I prepared breakfast. This over, 
I washed the dishes and made camp snug with¬ 
out assistance, offered or asked. We hunted 
small game until 10 o’clock, and I dressed it 
while Charlie manicured his hands and attended 
to his share of the mosquito bites. He displayed 
no interest in preparing for or clearing up the 
remains of lunch; dinner I also looked after. 
And on the second day the details were similar, 
but at the camp-fire that night I planned a lesson. 
When day broke the third morning I crawled 
out of my blankets carefully, picked up my 
clothing and rifle, slipped into the woods and 
made my toilet, then departed for hunting 
grounds out of ear shot before firing the rifle. 
The first squirrel I shot was dressed and spitted 
over a tiny fire, and I ate it with a little salt 
brought from camp, then went on my way, 
gathering a few nuts, persimmons and pawpaws 
for dessert. 
It was near noon when I returned to the 
vicinity of camp with several squirrels, and I 
approached and sat down among some bushes 
to see what was happening. Words floated out 
to me—vigorous words. Charlie was crouched 
before the smouldering camp-fire, fryingpan in 
hand. Now he scooped a mass of dough into 
the pan and held it over the smoke awhile, then 
he examined the contents, blew on the feeble 
coals, dumped the dough into the ashes, and 
made vigorous remarks to nobody in particular. 
It was evident he had not broken his fast and 
starvation was but a matter of time. 
I sneaked back through 'the bushes, struck a 
vigorous stride and made considerable noise ap¬ 
proaching. Hailing my friend cheerily, I asked 
if breakfast was ready, stating that I had been 
out since dawn and was hungry, and inquired 
what luck he had had that morning in hunting. 
Ignoring my questions, he burst out with a frank 
demand to be taught how to cook flapjacks, 
meat, anything good to eat. Thereafter I gave 
him simple directions, coached him in his efforts, 
[Oct. 24, 1908. 
and a more apt pupil I have never had in camp. 
Within a week he could “build a dog stew” better 
than I, and he forgot his hangnails, greasy hands 
and generally disreputable personal appearance 
and absorbed a lot of woodcraft. That morning 
of hunger and his futile efforts to mix and warm 
something he could eat taught him more than 
all the quarreling we might otherwise have in¬ 
dulged in. When we left the woods at the end 
of a month’s sojourn, he was fast becoming ex¬ 
pert, and he declared he had never had a better 
outing. 
* * * 
I happened to be standing on a boat landing 
on a small lake not long ago. A thunderstorm 
was approaching from the west, and squalls of 
rain could be seen off to the north. Presently 
one of these came directly toward me from the 
west, but veered and passed down the lake. 
Thirty yards north of the dock a fisherman sat 
in a boat, pulling up his anchor and making 
ready to row to the dock and seek shelter in a 
nearby building whence some of his companions 
had already gone. Just as he secured the anchor 
and picked up the oars, a tiny .slant of rain 
struck him, and for perhaps fifteen seconds it 
hung over him, then veering, followed him as 
he approached the landing, passing on as sud¬ 
denly as it had come. He was dripping with 
the rain when he stepped ashore, while the 
planks of the dock showed only a few spots 
where drops of rain had fallen at the same time. 
Together we hastened to the nearby shelter, one 
with moist clothing, the other dry. It was a 
curious freak of the storm. The rain did not 
drift along until it reached the angler, as is often 
the case in a thunder shower, but seemed to 
both of us to fall in one little place only, then 
pass on in a streak. 
* * * 
How difficult it is to pick out truth or fiction 
from apparently straightforward recitals of the 
actions of animals is well shown in a communi¬ 
cation sent to one of our foreign exchanges by 
a man who lays claim to long experience in 
breeding game birds. He stated in all serious¬ 
ness that only two of his pheasant hens had 
hatched out seventeen of the eighteen eggs 
placed under each one in the nests. “It is a 
curious fact,” he continues, “that both hatched 
off on the same day, and each hen immediately 
killed thirteen out of her seventeen live chicks 
by pecking their brains, and laid them in a row 
in front of her, each exactly in the same way. 
I shall be glad to know whether such a singular 
case has ever been noted before.” 
So shall I; but at any rate, in this case at 
least, thirteen was an unlucky number for both 
the chicks and their owner. 
* * * 
An instance of how often theory and practice 
are at odds is found in the woods just now. 
According to rumors of the chestnut blight the 
nut crop should be slim. Instead, the woods are 
plentifully sprinkled with fine large chestnuts, 
and the hunter who returns with a light bag of 
game is sure to collect a heavy one of these 
delicious nuts. 
* * * 
By a curious blunder one of the sportsmen's 
publications states that “the California Fresh 
Corn Commissioners have paid for the scalps of 
200 mountain lions at the rate of $20 a scalp.” 
Grizzly King. 
