July 16, 1910.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
85 
the evidence of his eyes—the thing was so ob¬ 
viously impossible. But again and again it was 
repeated, the frightened rush to right or left 
always ending in a sudden check and turn, so 
that man faced horse. 
Presently, hand over hand, without haste or 
hesitation, the man felt his way up the rope to¬ 
ward the horse’s head, and with secret satisfac¬ 
tion we watched the roan answer the tactics as 
he had our own, rearing, striking with his fore 
feet, and descending with legs as unresisting as 
granite pillars. But the man had given no rope, 
and now he was half way to the horse’s head, 
clear by perhaps a yard of the beating hoofs, 
and crooning some horse language in a low, 
persuasive undertone. 
The animal stood stock still, seemingly to 
listen, with ears pricked and legs set wide, while 
the man’s hand crept out and touched its nose, 
stroking it gently with a finger, two fingers, 
the palm of the hand, finally working up the 
side of the head to the tight-drawn noose about 
the neck, for all the world as one would tickle 
a trout. Very gingerly this was loosened, the 
slack rope formed into a loop, passed through 
it and over the animal’s nose. And so, for the 
first time in his life, Mr. Roan felt the unwel¬ 
come pressure of a head halter. 
He did his best to show his disapproval; but 
it was an easy matter to hold him now, and to 
pull him first this way, then that, protesting 
every foot of lost ground, but always forced to 
concede it at last. The patience of the man 
was inexhaustible. At the end of a full half- 
hour’s apparently fruitless “pulling,” with slow 
movement and unruffled brow he would again 
feel his way along the rope to soothe the 
frenzied animal with murmured encouragement 
and gentle strokings. 
The end came suddenly, as it often does. In 
answer to a more than usually severe pull, the 
horse advanced two steps, stopped, and took 
three more of its own accord. It had discovered 
that by this means it could not only slacken the 
pressure of the rope on its nose, but apparently 
satisfy the detestable little man with the furry 
legs, for he promptly turned a nonchalant back 
and strode round and round the corral, with the 
horse following like a dog. 
“Get my saddle and bridle,” he said as he 
passed us. 
But the roan found it necessary to draw the 
line somewhere. The halter, though undesir¬ 
able, had been bearable; for an ungainly struc¬ 
ture of leather to be strapped to one’s back, 
converting one’s grace of line into the humped 
ugliness of a dromedary, was sheer insult. He 
reared and struck, snorted and kicked. 
Very well. The little man seemed equally 
content. He snubbed the rope to a corral post, 
felt his way along it. and after rubbing the 
bridle over the animal’s face, slipped the bit 
between its teeth. Then he unbuckled the raw- 
hide lariat from his saddle. A turn of the wrist 
and the horse’s feet were in the noose. A quick 
jerk and they were drawn together, so that he 
stood swaying perilously. In a twinkling the 
rawhide was snubbed to the fence, the saddle 
clinched into position, and the roan stood tast¬ 
ing for the first time the vile discomfort of a 
tightly buckled girth. 
He shook his mane defiantly, beat the air 
with his trussed fore legs, and finally resorted 
to the “buck”—ducking his head, hunching his 
back, and leaping into the air. Twice this was 
repeated, and then, oh ignominy! the detestable 
little man’s puny weight was thrown on the 
rawhide rope and the roan landed sprawling in 
the dust. 
By the time he had scrambled to his feet the 
halter rope was slipped from about his neck 
and the man was in the saddle. For a full 
minute the horse stood, sulkily digesting this 
surprising condition of affairs. The weight of 
the rider was a mere nothing, neither did his 
furry legs press unduly; what more simple than 
to throw him from the leather hump and 
trample him in the dust? But at the first “buck” 
something pricked the horse’s ribs, at the sec¬ 
ond the process was repeated, and at the third 
a black felt hat descended and “dusted” him 
from ear to tail. 
Round and round the corral they sped, the 
“When Good Fellows Get 
Together” 
Simply strain through 
cracked ice and serve. 
Martini (gin base ) and Manhattan (whiskey 
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G. F. HEUBLEIN BRO. Hartford New York London 
horse bucking, twisting and squealing with rage; 
the man shaken and jolted like a rag doll, yet 
whooping triumphantly. When the horse had 
bucked himself out, and settled into a steady, 
obedient gallop, the man drew rein, slid off over 
his flank, and came toward us with the rolling, 
bandy-legged gait of the born rider. 
“Got any bad horses?” he inquired.—Ralph 
Stock, in Badminton. 
MOTOR BOATS AND FISH. 
Dr. and Mrs. Alfred Hennequin have 
spent three months principally in the lake 
region of the foothills of the Green Mountains, 
and Dr. Hennequin at Lake Hortonia made in¬ 
teresting study of the waters and fishing in 
Vermont. 
Dr. Hennequin made many observations on 
the effects that motor boats have on the fish 
in comparatively small lakes and ponds. He 
noticed that in ponds of from one mile to three 
miles long the bass are mostly caught in very 
shallow water when the boats are running up 
and down the deeper portions of the pond. 
They never stay more than one or two days 
in the same place and prefer to live in thickly 
weeded grounds, in companionship with very 
large and voracious pickerel, rather than take 
refuge in beds of rock close to which the motor 
boats pass, although the sharklike pickerel are 
seldom seen there. 
If the motor boats cease running for a day 
or so, the bass return to the rocks and deep 
waters, but can only be caught at sunrise or at 
sunset, although plainly seen, apparently per¬ 
fectly still, at the bottom of the pond. On the 
whole, in Dr. Hennequin’s opinion, the motor 
boats are seriously injuring the fishing in the 
Vermont ponds, for the fish are becoming more 
and more timid, to say nothing of the difficulty 
in locating them each day. 
Any fisherman probably will agree with Dr. 
Hennequin that motor boats should not be al¬ 
lowed to run in lakes and ponds less than five 
miles in length, and especially that they be not 
used for trolling, as the rapidity with which 
the lines go through the water injures more 
fish than are .caught. Pickerel in Lake Hor¬ 
tonia this summer were found dead, their bodies 
cut, and one pickerel weighing over fifteen 
pounds was found with one of its sides torn 
partly off.—Boston Transcript. 
Bristol, Conn. 
84 Horton St. 
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My Life As An Indian 
All That the Title Implies and More 
Probably the most faithful picture of Indian 
life ever drawn from the pen of a man who 
spent years among the Blackfeet, marrying into 
the tribe and becoming to all practical intents an 
Indian. 
Mr. Schultz tells of the life of the plains In¬ 
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touched by contact with civilization. He de¬ 
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love making, the wars, the trading of the In¬ 
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The narrative is full of intense human interest, 
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127 Franklin Street, New York 
The Salmon Fisher. 
Charles Hallock. Contents: Distribution of the Sainton. 
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