Oct. 29, 1910.] 
FOREST AND* STREAM. 
689 
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:>■&* ;e ■ 
seemed to be the chaperone, lugged out the flat 
package and said, “Where are you going to put 
this?” 
“What that?” asked my friend. 
“That is our mirror,” was the reply. 
“Mirror? What’s mirror?” 
The lady immediately jumped to the conclusion 
that she would have to talk down to the savage 
in order to make him understand. "Mirror- 
look glass—see you—understand?” At the same 
time she went through the motions of arranging 
her hair at a mirror, while Charley stood and 
watched her, his face as incrutable as an image. 
After she had impressed the uses of a mirror 
upon him in pantomime suffi¬ 
ciently he said, “Uh, huh. I 
sabe.” 
He picked the precious reflect¬ 
ing apparatus up and flung it on 
the top of a pack. The good 
woman screamed. “Don’t do 
that. You will break it.” 
The packing completed, they 
mounted and were off. At noon 
the women must have their 
mirror unpacked, freed from its 
swaddling clothes and set up be¬ 
side a tree, so that they could ar¬ 
range their toilets. Charley 
viewed the monstrosity askance. 
He fully realized that to carry a 
four-foot square mirror through 
four days of mountain travel was 
likely to require more skill than 
he possessed if he expected to 
bring the thing out at the further 
end in one piece. His active mind 
began to devise means of ridding 
himself of the responsibility. It 
would never do to smash the 
thing purposely, and yet smashed 
it must be. That afternoon he 
packed it on the most fractious 
cayuse in the band in the hope 
that the animal would bolt into a 
tree and relieve him of the care 
of that piece of wardrobe furni¬ 
ture. Fortune did not smile, how¬ 
ever, for the erstwhile cantanker¬ 
ous cayuse moved along as de¬ 
murely as possible and never got 
within hailing distance of a tree. 
That night the mirror was un¬ 
packed and served its purpose 
again. The thing was getting 
on my friend’s nerves. Alligator suit cases and 
folding cook stoves he could endure, but a four- 
foot mirror was so decidedly contrary to the 
traditions of the trail that it worried him. All 
forenoon his mind dwelt upon the matter. Just 
before they halted for lunch a brilliant idea 
struck him and he resolved to put it into execu¬ 
tion. When they were ready to proceed after 
lunch, Charley brought up a diminutive buckskin 
cayuse that looked very much like an overgrown 
sheep, and appeared to have just about as much 
spirit. If that cayuse looked demure he belied 
his looks. Charley knew his cayuse and selected 
him with a purpose. The animal stood half 
asleep while the pack was being adjusted. He 
was about four feet from the mirror. Charley 
gathered up the pack rope and quite casually 
walked around the animal. In the perambulation 
the pack rope managed to get beneath the tail of 
the somnolent animal. There was an awakening, 
some lofty bucking, and when the atmosphere 
cleared, the handsome plate glass mirror was in 
several thousand fragments, its value at a reflec¬ 
tor of feminine charms forever destroyed. 
There was great lamentation, but lamenting 
could not restore the damage. Charley was, of 
course, exceedingly regretful, but his regrets 
could not mend the mirror. 
Whatever there is to this story lies in its ap¬ 
plication to the carrying of plate glass mirrors, 
a’uminum cooking stoves and other similar 
articles in the packs. 
I may mention the many things that I have 
n'Y • tM' 
'•■■Civ-v\: - 
B 
AT THE PORTAGE. 
From a photograph by O. E. Fischer. 
found necessary for my convenience in camp. 
I stow my duffle in what is known in the cow 
camps as a war bag; that is, a canvas bag with 
a draw string about the top. Such a bag is easy 
to pack and does not get smashed if a cayuse 
rolls down a mountain side. Beginning at the 
bottom, I supply myself with stout half-leg, 
waterproof boots, laced. For camp wear I carry 
canvas or sheep-lined moccasins. Heavy wool 
hose, at least three pairs. The boots must be 
made to fit the foot snugly, neither too loose 
nor too tight; one is as bad as the other. The 
hose must be kept dry, hence the extra pairs. 
Underclothing is of heavy wool, union. Outside 
clothing Mackinac. The trousers I cut off at the 
height of the top of the boots. Overshirt, blue 
wool, similar to those used in the army. Knit 
wool mittens. I split the right-hand fore 
finger of these mittens half way down, so that 
I can slip my finger out of it quickly. You will 
find that wool mittens (fingered) are much better 
than buckskin gloves, your hands will keep warm 
in them, even though they be wet, and they can 
be dried much quicker when they are wet. A 
corduroy visored cap completes the rig. 
I carry in the pockets of the Mackinac jacket 
a waterproof match box that I use only in an 
emergency, a compass of good design that always 
indicates north. That remark may seem su¬ 
perfluous to you, but there are a whole lot of 
men who get the notion into their heads when 
they get lost that their compass is lost, too, and 
is not pointing north. One chap of my acquaint¬ 
ance when I found him was sit¬ 
ting on a log picking his compass 
to pieces with his pocket knife, 
trying to make the needle point 
right. A stout heavy hunting 
knife, not for offense or defense, 
but to cut fire wood if needed, is 
added to the equipment. 
My arsenal consists of one .30- 
30 carbine and a modest supply 
of ammunition. 
A few words in regard to the 
high power arms. I have no de¬ 
sire to decry any special weapon, 
nor shall I mention the make of 
arm I have found most effective. 
In my opinion, a man of ordinary 
ability can kill any game animal 
on the North American continent 
with a soft-nosed bullet sped from 
a -30-30 rifle of any of the stand¬ 
ard makes. The greater range 
and flatter trajectory of the 
larger calibers are no arguments 
here in the West where practi¬ 
cally all your game is killed under 
three hundred yards. A gun that 
kills at a mile is unnecessary and 
even dangerous. 
I said I only carry a modest 
supply of ammunition. Fixed 
ammunition for rifles is bulky and 
I do not care to burden myself 
with many pounds of it. The 
man who penetrates the hills ex¬ 
pecting to shoot every animal that 
gets in range, and shoot at a 
whole lot that are out of range, 
had better far do his shooting 
in a gallery—it is cheaper. One 
or two well placed shots are all 
that will be needed to stop your game, and 
the man who scatters his shots over a couple of 
sections of territory is no sportsman; he is a 
novice. One hundred cartridges are sufficient for 
any man to carry with him for a four weeks’ 
trip, and then, if he is conservative, he will re¬ 
turn with over half of them. 
The average man picks up his rifle in the 
morning and sets out on his hunt without ever 
looking to his sights. It is just a little discon¬ 
certing to draw down on a fine buck and miss 
him several feet by virtue of misplaced sights. 
See to it every morning that your sights are in 
line. This is a specially valuable suggestion 
where you are hunting a country where there is 
much undergrowth and fallen timber. Two 
more things I wish to urge upon you. Do not 
bring a loaded gun into camp, and do not neglect 
to clean your rifle before putting it away. A 
