494 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept. 24, 1910. 
foot full in front of the other, and every move¬ 
ment. despite his sixty-nine years, was supple in 
the extreme. Silently he prepared the frugal 
meal and placed it on the rough board table 
against the wall. “Draw up and eat a bite,” he 
said. 
1'he trout, the tea and the biscuit with maple 
syrup struck the hunger zone with telling effect 
to Uncle Hi’s satisfaction, but no word escaped 
him until we had pushed back to light our pipes. 
“Had ’nuff?” he asked. 
“Yes, more than enough.’’ 
“Then I’ll fix yer bunks.” 
This done, he sat with us before the cheerful 
fire and filled his cheek with an ample quid of 
plug tobacco. 
With the aid of a verbal corkscrew Charlie 
extracted from the old man the fact that fish¬ 
ing was prime and deer plenty. (Those were the 
days when the trout and deer seasons lapped by 
half a month—the days before legislators were 
wise enough to save either the August deer or 
the August trout.) Uncle Hi volunteered noth¬ 
ing. He gave me no look nor word when 
Charlie explained that I had come into the woods 
in search of health—he merely spat in the fire a 
trifle more explosively. But he gave no s’gn 
that we were unwelcome. On the contrary, his 
face lighted up with pleasure when either of us 
spoke, and he seemed especially interested when 
anything regarding the outside world was men¬ 
tioned. A lifetime spent in the great silence is 
not conducive to loquacity. 
For an hour we smoked and carried on a one¬ 
sided conversation. Then came the moments of 
reverie that are born of an open wood fire. At 
last Uncle Hi spat once more and said: 
“Tired, ain’t ye?” 
“A little weary.” 
“Well, there's yer 1 unks. Say we turn in.” 
Without another word he arose and began his 
own preparations for bed. We followed and in 
a few brief moments were wrapped in our 
blankets and dreaming of speckled deer and 
trout with huge antlers. 
We were aroused in the morning by Uncle 
Hi’s voice. He was solemnly lecturing the cat 
on deportment and laying especial stress on the 
point that good behavior at night was quite as 
creditable, even to a cat, as circumspect conduct 
by day. He did not say it in this way exactly, 
but such was the drift of his discourse. As we 
swung out of our bunks the old man smiled cor¬ 
dially in our direction and asked : 
“Sleep good?” 
“Fine!” 
"Well, breakfast is ready. There’s a pail of 
cold water outside the door.” 
We washed and ate and our conversation was 
about as spirited as that of the night before. 
There were indications, however, that Uncle Hi 
was thawing. Once he actually looked at me 
and said: “Better have ’nother flapjack. Man 
can’t get well here onless he fills up on flap- 
jacks.” And I promptly took one more step to¬ 
ward health. 
Breakfast over. Uncle Hi placed all the dishes 
in a basin, seized a towel and piece of soap and 
descended to the river bank. In a few moments 
he returned with the dishes in the pan, but all 
were dry and clean. “Want to take a walk?” he 
asked me. 
“Yes.” 
“Left my canoe down the river about a mile 
and a half. We c’n go after it and fish a little 
on the way back.” 
We went. In the bottom of the canoe was an 
old bamboo pole with about ten feet of fish line 
attached to the tip. Uncle Hi paddled to a bend 
in the stream, pushed the nose of the canoe 
against the shore and asked me to grip the grass 
and hold the craft. Picking up his pole he threw 
the hook and line into the stream, and in a 
moment lifted a wriggling trout info the boat. 
Removing the half-pound fish from the hook he 
cast again and lifted another trout of about the 
same size as the first one. I was intensely in¬ 
terested. I had not seen him bait his hook and 
I wondered if the trout in the stream were so 
unsophisticated as to take the bare and forbid¬ 
ding hook. After the old man had landed a half 
dozen fine trout, I ventured to ask him. 
“Lise a trout fin fer bait,” he said, with a 
smile. "Had one on the hook last night when 
I caught the trout we had for supper and break¬ 
fast. It laid in the boat all night, but the rain 
prevented it from drying up, and I used it agin 
this morning. Nothing better fer trout fishin’ 
than the vent (anal) fin of a trout. Cut it right 
and it looks like a fly. They take it proper. 
Guess this one's about played out now, though.” 
We moved up stream slowly, stopping at the 
bends and catching two or three at each hole. 
“Don’t pay to fish in a hole that ye’ve taken 
three trout out of already,” said Uncle Hi. “The 
little cusses make so much fuss that they scare 
all the others and they won’t bite. Catch three 
and move on ; that's my way.” 
When we returned to camp at noon I reviewed 
the brief trip carefully and the last analysis 
showed that L T ncle Hi led the conversation; in 
fact, he had appeared anxious to talk and en¬ 
lighten me—to encourage me on the upward way 
to health. That helps a lot as a starter, and I 
feel that I am bound to be well again. As I 
progress I will try to tell you the plain, unvar¬ 
nished story of our stay here, and I hope .that 
I may not tire you. Fred L. Purdy. 
Shooting Cost in Britain. 
Liverpool, England, Sept. 2.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: As an exile here in England, where 
one can never hear the roar of the ruffed grouse 
nor the buzz of the rising quail, I read with 
peculiar interest your editorial on “Shooting Cost 
in Britain.” 
What you say is of course absolutely true, and 
absolutely well known to people who live on this 
side of the water. Those here who have good 
shooting pay for it, and pay very high prices. 
It is an admitted fact that grouse shooting is 
about the most expensive sport known in Eng¬ 
land and Scotland, yet so long as there are peo¬ 
ple who can afford to pay the bills and so long 
as grouse shooting remains as fashionable as it 
is, and long has been, so long will landowners 
who possess grouse moors have an opportunity 
to lease them to rich Americans and to con¬ 
siderable numbers of Englishmen, who, having re¬ 
cently come into more or less money, take to this 
sport as a means of improving their standing in 
society, climbing a round or two higher on the 
social ladder because they have something de¬ 
sirable to offer. 
This year, as it seems, more Americans than 
ever have come over here to shoot, and many 
of them have leased grouse moors. I talked not 
long ago with a man who, while he has plenty 
of money and is a generous fellow, abhors 
waste; and he expressed much disgust, saying 
that the grouse killed on the moor which he 
leased cost him as nearly as he could figure it 
in the neighborhood of £10 or $50 each. This 
seemed to him—as it would to most men—a 
pretty stiff price for shooting, especially in a 
locality where you are sure to get a lot of birds. 
Sometimes it happens, back in God’s country, 
that one may make a long and expensive trip 
which, so far as birds go, is a total failure. I 
recall one such excursion, where I went duck 
shooting, being absent about ten days and spend¬ 
ing $90. and got just one duck. A combination 
of weather and other unlucky things ruined my 
shooting. 
I have occasionally been asked to shoot here 
in England, and it cannot be denied that there 
is shooting enough, but the delightful element 
of uncertainty which we feel back in blessed old 
America is absolutely lacking, and I have often 
felt that I should derive as much pleasure from 
shooting pigeons out of a trap as from killing 
driven partridges or pheasants. 
Business Exile. 
Fires in Yellowstone Park. 
During pretty much the whole month of 
August, a 1 fire has been burning south of the 
Yellowstone Lake, and in all that time there 
has been. only a single slight fall of snow to 
check it. It is difficult to estimate the number 
of miles burned over, but it is a large territory 
on both sides of Flat Mountain and of Flat 
Mountain Finger, west to Mount Sheridan and 
east to the south arm of the lake. Recently a new 
fire started on Lewis Fork of the Snake River. 
The past month has been one of very high 
winds, making it impossible for the soldiers to 
do much to check these fires. A storm, which 
will bring moisture enough to put the fires out, 
is hoped for. The soldiers now stationed in the 
park have been ordered to go to a new station 
in the Sandwich Islands,’ and any new men de¬ 
tailed here will have to learn the new work of 
fighting fire. 
Major Benson has been hard at work all sum¬ 
mer putting out fires, several of which were 
large. Every fire in the park, except the one 
south of the lake, has been extinguished, a fact 
which speaks volumes for Major Benson’s ad¬ 
ministration. Officers and men have been con¬ 
stantly busy in many places, and in several cases 
were in great danger of being cut off. One 
squad, Lieut. Beard and twenty-nine men, were 
surrounded by fire and for a time it seemed 
probable that they would be obliged to take (o 
the lake for safety, but by hard work they man¬ 
aged to stay, save their camp, escaping with a 
few burns only and considerable damage to 
wearing apparel. The Yellowstone Boat Com¬ 
pany performed useful service in transporting 
men and provisions and moving camp for the 
troops. 
At no time were any tourists or hotel or sta¬ 
tion in danger from fires, as all fires in the 
park proper were at once extinguished by the 
troops. Nevertheless the fires along the rail¬ 
road have done much to lessen the travels of 
the f>gpk, although it has suffered less from fire 
than any other section of the country and has 
been less troubled by smoke. 
