690 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 30, 1910. 
sion, by this cumulative tissue of difficulties. 
But Preacher Yarky, if not over valiant or 
zealous as a hunter, was decidedly helpful and 
full of resource—after the “hunt” was over. 
With his assistance, bruin was finally dragged 
down and out; some semblance of order was 
restored to the inside of the cabin. Then the 
circuit-rider went his way, leaving the Hopper 
family to their own devices. The widow, Zeke, 
Samanthy and even little Jim-Hen labored so 
industriously that by the time our small party 
of hunters reached Greasy Creek, the Gap was 
settled pretty well into its usual lethargic 
calm. 
Table and beds were repaired and cleansed, 
the cabin scoured, new dishes bought, some¬ 
how, and bruin, minus his sorghum-stained 
hide, was reposing in one of the widow’s wash- 
tubs under various layers of salt. But the 
whole affair had evidently imparted a pes¬ 
simistic flavor to Mrs. Hopper’s views in some 
respects. 
“Preachin’ an’ prayin’ is all right,” she would 
aver. “I ain’t sayin’ a word agin ’em. No, 
sirree. But if it hadn’t been for my dead an’ 
gone old man’s Winchester, that b’ar might 
have tore down the hull chimbley and got clean 
off, whur he could have eat up more of my shotes. 
“More’n that; ef we’d a staid home from 
that thar meetin’ down on Crooked Run, it’d 
never got inter my house to work its devilment. 
Land o’ mercy! Meetings air all right. I ain’t 
arg’in’ agin meetin’s, I say. But suthin’ have 
give Zekel a master back-set already. I ack- 
chilly heard him cuss kase Hemy ain’t to ho’pe 
us out grindin’ soggrum. Zeke says it was ol 
Satan. I say hit’s b’ar. Have some more of 
the steak, Jcdge. No? You’re like Preacher 
Yarky. He ’lowed he wasn’t partic’ler fond 
of b’ar meat, either alive or dead.” 
A Week in the Sugar-Bush 
v • * k fi. ' • 
By QUINTE 
T HE long looked for time had arrived at 
last, and we were off for the shanty, 
which lay over four miles from the house 
and gravel road on the edge of a great swamp 
which stretched for many miles. As we did not 
intend to come out for some time, the big sleigh 
was pretty well loaded with bedding, horse feed 
and food to satisfy three healthy appetites for 
a while. 
The ditches and creeks were all running over, 
but by picking our way along in the lee of fences 
where the snow lay pretty deep yet, we arrived 
safely without any adventure, seeing only some 
wild geese feeding, but as they were too far 
away, we did not bother them. Once we en¬ 
tered the woods proper we found deep snow, 
and only the cawing of the crows gave any sign 
that spring had appeared. 
When the shanty was reached and the horses 
unhitched, work began in earnest, and while Bob 
and Fred got the buckets and spiles and other 
arrangements for tapping ready, I cleaned out 
the bunks, put in fresh hay for beds and got 
dinner. After we had done justice to our vic¬ 
tuals, the tapping of 800 trees and setting of the 
buckets commenced. Now, in the old days, a 
gash was cut in each tree and a wooden spile 
driven in, and hanging on this or else at the foot • 
of the tree a pail or maple trough was set 
to catch the flow of sap, which was emptied into 
a large iron potash kettle which hung over a 
roaring fire outdoors. Things have changed now 
and metal spiles and tin-covered buckets in¬ 
sure that no leaves or dirt of any kind enters, 
and the boiling down to syrup is done in covered 
pans which, with wood at six dollars a cord, 
means a great saving of fuel as well as im¬ 
proved quality of syrup, though many find fault 
and lament the “good old maple flavor” which 
was usually caused by the leaves and dirt. I 
took a stroll down to the edge of the marsh 
and found the ice getting rotten and open water 
in spots, and good prospects that pike would be 
running soon. A few blackbirds had arrived 
and chipmunks and red squirrels were to be 
seen occasionally. 
After a hearty supper we were all ready for 
bed, and though it is usually hard for me to 
sleep in a strange bed, even the snores of the 
boys could not keep me awake, and it was day¬ 
light before I'knew it. 
While I got breakfast and the fire going under 
the two pans, the boys hitched the horses to a 
stone boat on which a cask was fixed and the 
gathering of sap began, but as very few of the 
buckets were over quarter full, it was decided 
to take chances of them running over and leave 
the rest till to-morrow. So the rest of the day 
was spent in cutting wood, shooting at marks 
with my ten-inch pistol and getting things in 
order for the big run expected later, loward 
night, however, it clouded up and we had a 
regular downpour, accompanied by gales and 
thunder and lightning. It may be nice to listen 
to the patter of the rain on the shingles, but 
when a few leaks start over your bed and you 
hear the crash of trees falling and expect every 
minute to see everything smashed into flinders, 
it takes most of the poetry out of it. However, 
the storm passed away, and as soon as day broke 
we got the fire going, and as there had been a 
big run of sap, things were on the rush all day. 
That night it turned very cold and for the 
next two days the flow of sap was small, but on 
Friday we had over thirty gallons of syrup to 
send to the front for the Saturdays market. 
Bob took this out and after gathering and boil¬ 
ing down, Fred and I went piking. Ihey were 
rising over the marsh in every direction, and in 
about two hours we had over thirty good ones, 
averaging three pounds each. Some dislike pike, 
but when caught in spring in cold water and 
with the appetite the woods give you, if properly 
cooked they are fit for anybody. 
In the afternoon Fred took the gun and went 
back to the pond we had seen the geese on, as 
we had seen them flying over us every day and 
suspected they were going to the same place, 
and sure enough on his return he had a twelve- 
pound gander to show and claimed he had 
wounded another which, however, was able to 
fly out of sight. On examination we could only 
find traces of one pellet of shot striking it in 
the eye. While we fired over 500 cartridges, we 
killed or shot at only this bird, as in the woods 
at this time of year even the much abused crows 
seem to be old friends, and the farmers are 
probably gainers by them on the whole if they 
do bother a cornfield now and then. As to the 
chipmunks and red squirrels, while perhaps not 
much is to be said in their favor, their presence 
adds life to the scene and they have troubles 
enough without us wantonly taking the little 
lives that are as sweet to them as ours are to us. 
Saturday morning found it snowing hard, and 
as there was very little sap to gather, we spent 
most of the day reading papers and magazines 
which Bob brought out with him from the front. 
Late in the afternoon a surprise party of a dozen 
friends from the village dropped in on us'and 
a taffy pull was in order. The way pickles, ham, 
eggs, etc., vanished from sight was a caution; 
then, as there were several musical ones who 
had brought a guitar and banjo as well as the 
old reliable mouth organs along, we made; the 
old forest ring till nearly midnight, then home 
once more—as I returned with the visitors after 
having had one of the finest outings of my life. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
The next best thing to going duck shooting is 
to read of “the other fellow’s” successful trip, 
especially if you have helped him to select the 
place. But when you are “chained to business” 
and cannot go with him, the chafing of the, fet¬ 
ters is sometimes irritating and you even wish 
the favorite gun in your cabinet at home would 
hide itself somehow, so that you could not see 
it for a while. Now and then you extract a 
grain of comfort from the situation, however, 
when you hear a friend praise the place you 
sent him and the shooting he found there,! for 
ducking waters that are free to the shooting 
public are scarce; that is, within the stereotyped 
three hours’ ride from town. 
There is one good place to go, but it is not 
every man that will grow enthusiastic when you 
tell him where it is, though his eyes bulge at 
the mention of the Imperial valley farmers 
whose crops come up while they sleep—assisted 
by flocks of ducks and geese. 
There is another good place, not so far away. 
I have it from good authority that on a certain 
day recently the railway system in Newfound¬ 
land was demoralized for nearly a whole day 
by ducks. Evidently the wildfowl were flying 
low because of exhaustion or fog, for it is not 
often that they interfere with telegraph lines. 
In this case the flight passed over Placentia Bay 
and the barrens, breaking wires and insulators. 
The “trouble hunters” sent out to ascertain why 
all communication had ceased on the system 
found dead ducks entangled in the wires and 
under them. Now and then, according to the 
linemen in Newfoundland, they find dead snipe 
and other migrants under the wires, but my in¬ 
formant says this is the first time important 
breakages have been caused by them. 
Grizzly King. 
