May 12, 1906.] 

FOREST AND STREAM. 
753 


various calls made by a party of bluejays, who 
visited our vicinity, one alighting within a few 
feet of where we sat, while he gave vent to. 
ringing, bell-like notes, bending his body for- 
ward with a jerking motion as the sound was 
uttered. Every few moments I took a care- 
ful survey of the field and between times 
watched a group of gnats jigging in the sun- 
shine, near the gold-bathed trunk of the pine, 
or made silent and desperate snatches at some 
unusually persistent and annoying mosquito. 
We were all grateful for the bottle of “fly 
poison” we had with us, and used it freely. But 
who minds “punkies” and other winged pests 
when thus armed, and when there is a buck 
in question? It is small bitter indeed compared 
to the ineffable sweet of such an afternoon, 
whether or not any game is bagged. 
“Don’t bob your head around like that,’ I 
once remarked in low tones. 
“T haven’t moved an inch,’ returned the 
Dryad, indignantly, and we both relapsed into 
silence again. 
“What was that?” I asked a short time later, 
looking at Wallace. 
“T did hear something,” he responded, and 
we listened intently. A cracking bush generally 
gives me heart palpitation, and I now watched 
with increased vigilance. The afternoon waned, 
and the sun receded from our position; giving 
place to cool shadows, and an_ evening 
fragrance. It could not have been long after 
6 o'clock when I saw the buck standing motion- 
less in the edge of the woods, on the further 
side of the field. 
“Here he comes!” I breathed with dry lips. 
“Oh!” came from behind me as my com- 
panion awakened to the fact. I pulled the 
hammer back, slipped the rifle forward and 
waited. Therein lay the mistake. I should have 
fired immediately and not allowed the deer closer 
range, for he now started walking toward the 
blind and was less than forty yards distant when 
I drew up to shoot. Then followed another 
mistake, for, fearing that he would scent us 
before I could fire, I took too quick an aim 
and therefore made a wretched shot. At the 
report he gave a bound and moved off at a 
lope, just a little to one side of the blind. 
“Shoot again, quick!’ cried Wallace, for the 
deer had stopped broadside on the edge of the 
woods, not thirty yards from us. Bang! went 
a second shot, and with another bound the great 
beast disappeared. 
“Here, take the gun and follow him apy V1 
said to Wallace. “I never touched him!” 
“T think you shot right over his back,” re-° 
plied the latter, hastily loading, and I groaned 
inwardly with shame and_ disappointment. 
Stealthily we saw him enter the woods where 
the buck had last been seen. Then followed a 
dead silence. , 
“Perhaps he’ll come back and attack us,” 
whispered Diana in tones that momentarily 
chilled me. “You know wounded bucks are 
frightfully vicious.” 
“Oh, no they aren’t!” I said reassuringly, but 
nevertheless: not quite calmly. A second later 
we saw a streak of flame and heard the .40-65 
speak loudly. 
“There!” ejaculated Diana, “I’m going up a 
tree! I know he’s coming back!” . Crash! and 
another shot startled the silence. At this she 
did not pause to wait any longer, but, bending 
aside the lower branches of the pine, drew her- 
self valiantly up into a place of safety. For 
several minutes I felt demoralized, 
“Bring me some more cartridges!” suddenly 
called Wallace in a loud voice, and this served 
to dispel my qualms. 
“All right!” I shouted in return, and ran at 
full speed toward the woods. ~ 
“Look out for the buck! Look out for the 
buck!” cried the Dryad after me from her perch. 
“Where is he?’ I asked, coming up with 
Wallace. 
_“He’s gone over the knoll. I can’t seem to 
hit anything,” he answered with evident disgust, 
and while he continued on the trail, I waited 
in a state of wild suspense. A third time a 
shot rang out, but was followed almost im- 
mediately by the cheering words, “I’ve got 
him!” Diana now descended from her position, 
and we both proceeded to the place where the 
buck had at last fallen. He was a beautiful 
animal, weighing about 200 pounds, with large, 
well-matched horn§’, and a fine coat. I only 
regretted having made such a poor shot in the 
beginning, which had been the cause of our 
tumultuous hunt. But such experiences benefit 
the future, and next time we remember not to 
shoot too quickly at the decisive moment, or 
if the conditions necessitate a hasty shot, then 
not carelessly. Nothing is better than a sure, 
quick manipulation of the rifle; but to acquire 
it means practice, perseverance, assurance and 
plenty of disappointments. 
In a short time we were joined by the 
Veteran and C., who, having heard the fusil- 
lade, had left their station and come over to 
find out the result. : 
“What were you trying to do?’ questioned 
the former. “Shoot up all your ammunition 
and the deer included?” 
“T guess we all had buck fever,’ remarked 
Wallace, and I agreed with him. After meet- 
ing the wagon, which was sent back to get 
the buck, we concluded to walk home instead 
of driving, for the ozone, laden with cool twi- 
light vigor, seemed to invite exercise. 
The horn of the hunter’s moon glinted be- 
tween the poplar leaves and shed a faint radi- 
ance over the clearing, where the feathery seed 
vessels of golden rod swayed gently in the 
ebbing light. What are these warm, delectable 
and almost grape-like odors that assail one’s 
nostrils on entering the woods? Perchance they 
issue from some wine press of nature or are 
the fumes arising from the amber, purple and 
golden fruit, crushed between the ethereal palms 
of Ceres. The trees along the roadside stood 
out with a vagtie temple-like aspect, and who 
knows as we wended our way homeward, but 
that the arch face of a Dryad peeped smiling 
approval on a certain member of our party, and 
the genii hailed with unanimous appreciation 
the Veteran’s foresight, which in truth had 
been the real cause of all our “good luck.” 
PAULINA BRANDRETH. 
Killed a Colorado Mountain Sheep. 
As 1s well known, mountain sheep have been 
protected in Colorado for a number of years, and 
are slowly increasing. . Yet, after all, a few are 
killed from time to time, though on the whole the 
law is well obeyed, and in some places has the 
support of a strong public sentiment, for the peo- 
ple—as they should be—are proud of the beauti- 
ful animals that feed on their mountains and 
hillsides. 
A letter received recently by the Game and 
Fish Commissioner’s office in Denver, Colo., tells 
of the arrest and conviction of one Fred Klantsky 
for killing a mountain sheep. The trial took 
place in the county court at Cafion City and 
Klantsky was fined $300 and costs, which 
amounted to $140 more. A few examples such as 
this can hardly fail to infuse into the most law- 
less citizens of Colorado a wholesome respect for 
statutes. : 
A Rockefeller Suit Won. 
Dickinson CentER, N. Y., May 5.—Editor 
Forest and Stream: The Forest, Fish and Game 
Commission has won the first of its Rockefeller 
suits, John Redwood, manager of the Bay Pond 
Preserve, having been fined $200 and costs for 
violation of the hounding law. Deputy Attor- 
ney-General John V. Ward conducted the case 
for the State, and Vellos and Geneway for the 
defendant. The case is likely to be appealed, the 
attorneys for the defendant impugning the con- 
stitutionality of section 9 of the Forest, Fish and 
Game law. 
Deputy Attorney-General Ward during the trial 
brought out the fact that Redwood had made an 
attempt to intimidate Chief Protector Burnham, 
having stated that William Rockefeller’s influ- 
ence was such that Burnham would lose his 
official head if he persisted in the case. N. 
New York Game Law. 
THE bills in the New York Legislature to 
amend the Long Island Duck Shooting law, and 
the law relative to the possession and sale of 
foreign game were both killed. The law as to 
these subjects therefore remains as before. 
Spring Ducks in Wisconsin. 
THE last week of April was notable at some 
points in Wisconsin for the enormous abundance 
of ducks seen. Thousands of fowl are reported 
to have been seen along the shores of Little Lake 
3utte des Morts, and residents of Appleton, Wis., 
have declared that they have never seen spring 
ducks more plentiful than they were then. 
This year spring duck shooting is forbidden by 
law, but it is reported that there have been not 
a few violations. Whether any arrests were made 
is not yet known, 
A Game Story. 
THEY were spinning yarns of the great north 
woods, and finally it came the old major’s turn. 
“Gentlemen,” he began, “you have all told 
stories of close calls in the great forests of the 
North, but I think my yarn will eclipse them all. 
Would you believe that I was once treed by a 
ferocious bull moose. Well, gentlemen, I was, 
and to make matters worse my ammunition gave 
out. As I thought of the loved ones at home 
tears came in my eyes, rolled down on the palm 
of my hand and froze hard as marbles. A happy 
thought flashed through my mind. Taking the 
frozen tears I rammed them in my gun, blazed 
away, killed the moose, and then, gentlemen, and 
then 
But just then the picture of Ananias fell off 
the wall—Chicago News. 

The Dreaded Loup-Garou of the Can- 
adian Wilderness. 
Bos’s natural young voice broke the strained 
silence, writes May R. S. Andrews in the March 
Scribner. “That fellow is a blame good howler,” 
he observed, and the frightened guides drew a 
long breath and Vezina showed his access of 
courage by getting up to throw a handful of 
birch bark on the fire. Bob chuckled a bit, un- 
conscious of the bad moment which he had 
averted. “Vezina, did you think that howling 
was a loup-garou?” he asked. And with that 
something happened which, fitting as it did to 
the strained tension of the superstitious men, was 
extraordinary and uncomfortable. 
The blaze of the birch bark just thrown on 
went- out quickly, and a log fell away at the mo- 
ment, scattering the others, leaving us suddenly 
in partial darkness. Coming after the intense 
light it seemed more profound, and it was as if 
the firelight had been turned off and moonlight 
turned on at a touch, for the whole breeze-swept 
forest stirred with mystical white fingers. An 
opening of an old windfall ran from us to the 
river, and there came from this glade a loud, 
sharp crash of a broken limb. Every eye turned 
to the spot. In the path of the moon, black against 
the white lighted river, high on pedestal of 
storm-felled tree trunks, stood a big wolf. Still 
as death the wild thing regarded us, and still as 
death we stared back, and then with a spring 
I was in my tent, and with another I was back 
rifle in hand. 
I cannot remember loading or cocking but I 
remember seeing the dark mass at the end of the 
barrel, and I remember the shet dying in the 
hills, If I had hit, if we had dragged a dead 
animal into camp, all would have been simple. 
But I missed. Without sound, or so the men 
said, the creature melted into the silver forest 
and left me a set of frightened children to handle. 
Josef indeed was reasonable, but the others were 
in a pitiable state. 
“Tt was—it was,’ Vezina stammered through 
clicking teeth, “it was the loup-garou,’ and he 
gazed at me with big childish eyes as if begging 
me to contradict. 
