June 24, 1911.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
995 
Some Good Reasons 
Why You Should Shoot 
THE 
PARKER 
GUN 
Be high man at the traps. 
Shoot the finest brush gun made. 
Mechanical construction perfect. 
Send today for illustrated catalogue. 
PARKER BROS 
New York Salesrooms: 32 Warren St. 
Meriden, Conn. 
The 
Marlin 
Model 
20 
REPEATING RIFLE _ ... 
You can buy 
no better gun for tar¬ 
get work and all small game 
up to 2 00 yards. Without change 
of mechanism it handles .22 short, 
long or long-rifle cartridges, perfectly. The 
deep Ballard rifling develops maximum power 
and accuracy and adds years to the life of rifles. 
The solid top is protection from defective cartridges—prevents 
powder and gases from being blown back. The side ejection 
never lets ejected shells spoil your bead and allows quick, accurate 
repeat shots. With simple take-down construction, removable 
action parts least parts of any .22—it is the quickest and easiest 
to clean. A great vacation rifle. Ask any gun dealer. 
7%e THar/i/z firearms Co. 
27 WILLOW STREET, . . NEW HAVEN, CONN. 
The 136 page 
77Zar///i catalog will 
help you decide what 
rifle best suits your in¬ 
dividual desires. Send 
3 stamps for it today. 
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INDIANS AND INDIAN. DOGS. 
The population of Horse Island, in Lake 
Manitoba, says a writer in the Evening Post, 
consisted of one white man and two white boys, 
a hundred or so Indians, and several hundred 
Indian dogs summering on the island and liv¬ 
ing on the offal of the fisheries after it had 
been carted to the interior and dumped in heaps. 
The dogs looked so like coyotes, or most of 
them did, that you would not have hesitated to 
shoot them if you met them masterless on the 
prairie. Here, however, being well fed, they 
were fat and friendly—too friendly, in fact, for 
if you spoke to one of them, he immediately 
adopted you as a companion and invited his 
friends to come along. As their diet was en¬ 
tirely the cast out material from the fisheries 
and most of them were covered with fleas, we 
soon ceased to make encouraging advances. 
I spent my nights in a little shack adjoining 
the main store. We did not get back from the 
fishing trip until long after dark, and I was just 
going to turn in when my friend and host, the 
manager of the fishing company, asked me if I 
would like some supper. When one has been 
living in the open air for a time, he is gener¬ 
ally ready to eat at odd hours. I accepted his 
invitation. He led me down to a long, barn-like 
building. 
The scene inside was theatrical in its un¬ 
reality. There were tables running the whole 
length of the building, and seated at them were 
all the male Indians on the island. They looked 
grotesque as they sat there, dressed as deep- 
sea fishermen, in high boots, rough guernseys, 
and oil-skins. Somehow one never dreams of 
an Indian as a sea fisherman. Fancy an Indian 
in a sou’wester! 
The room was lit up by oil lamps, dim and 
rather smoky, placed at intervals along the 
tables. The waitresses were squaws, padding 
noiselessly up and down with moccasined feet. 
Between the lamps were old tomato and meat 
cans containing bunches of tiger lilies and other 
vivid prairie flowers. 
It was midnight before I went to bed. There 
was a window, curtainless and blindless, close 
alongside me, through which the moonlight 
poured, making the room almost as bright as 
day. Just as I was settling down to sleep, one 
of the Indian dogs set up a long-drawn howl 
outside. The solo continued for half a minute, 
and then, as if their conductor had waved his 
baton, all the dogs on the island joined in a 
chorus. But just as suddenly as it had begun, 
the noise stopped. I looked out and saw every 
dog rise to his feet. For another three or four 
minutes they threaded in and out among one 
another, single file, in lines of anywhere from 
three to a dozen dogs or more. Afterward I 
learned they went through the same perform¬ 
ance at intervals in that night, and later I read 
a description of the same habit among the dogs 
of the Yukon. 
The cause of it bothers me. It must be an 
ancestral trait derived from the time the dogs 
hunted in packs. But why? Is it to warn off 
possible enemies? 
From the island I went to the mouth of the 
Saskatchewan, to shoot the rapids in a canoe. 
On my return the steamboat stopped at Horse 
Island again. We left just about midnight, and 
again that weird dog chorus echoed through the 
night-air. A mile away you would have sworn 
that children were singing, so human was the 
sound. When the dogs had ceased their howl¬ 
ing, two pealed out a long, shrieking laugh of 
derision from the little crescent-shaped harbor 
of the island behind us. They say the interior 
of the island used to be the dwelling place of 
Wendigoes, and banshees, and wizards; but even 
a Wendigo could not stand these noises. 
THE CANNY SCOT. 
Two ministers were crossing a lake in a storm. 
When matters became most critical, someone 
cried out: “The two ministers must pray!” 
“Na, na,” said the boatman, “the little ane can 
pray if he likes, but the big ane maun tak’ an 
oar!”—Fishing Gazette. 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING CO 
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