954 
FOREST AND STREAM. 

Clate failed to grab him, he might possibly have 
swum to the boats and canoes towing astern, but 
in water at that temperature, it is very likely 
he would have gone down before the launch 
could be stopped or turned in that sea. After 
being pulled out, he stripped to the hide and put 
on dry clothes. He suffered not so much as a 
sneeze for a ducking that would mean pneumonia 
to a less hardy man. 
November Ist, the first day of the open season, 
and the best day in our camp, had.a big spot on 
the calendar. The ‘Governor,’ a buck with fif- 
teen points, eight and seven, the eighth being a 
freak horn or spike, was shot by one of the 
“oreenhorns,” Jesse. This buck, when dressed, 
weighed 249 pounds and was christened the 
“Governor,” by Noah Pamaguem, who, when he 
critically examined it, said, “No good hunt next 
year, deers he all go off to lect nes govnoor.” 
Far be it from me to wrest any laurels from 
the brow of that valiant sportsman, Jesse, but 
on the level it was the rankest kind of luck. 
What do you think—a man that could not hit a 
stationary target thirty inches in diameter at one 
hundred yards, the same man with the same gun 
walks out into the bush, and in less than two 
hours has the prime factor of the district hung up 
by the heels, and he never shot his rifle again in 
the fifteen days. My hat is off to you, Jesse; I 
am glad you got him, and here’s hoping the next 
one will be bigger and will come into camp for you. 
Frank, the Beau Brummel, brought down‘a fine 
large doe early in the morning, and as he got 
the first game the camp of 1905 bears his name. 
Now, this is the difference between luck and 
-ability. Frank knows all about hunting from 
Esau to President Roosevelt, and this was the 
first deer to fall to his rifle after twelve years’ 
hunting in this region. He shot her running at 
200 yards. Jesse got his at thirty yards sitting— 
that is, the hunter sat, the game waited standing. 
Tom downed a doe, just a trifle larger than 
Frank’s, and counting the fawn that he acci- 
dentally shot the day before, made him the limit. 
There will always be a question in my mind, 
whether it was an accident or the hand of Provi- 
dence, that delivered that fawn to us a few hours 
ahead of the season. The camp needed meat, the 
dogs had not been fed for two days, and bacon is 
liable to get scarce forty miles from the nearest 
smoke-house. However, when the sun went 
down, the Buckskin juniors had the old guard 
three to one when the score was footed up for 
the first day’s feast. 
‘Thursday, November 2, it rained, sleeted, 
snowed and froze all morning, and got soft about 
noon, followed up by more snow in the afternoon, 
Tom took charge of the unorganized mob, and 
after swearing tthem all into the Carpenter’s 
Union, formed a construction gang, put them at 
work building chairs, benches, repairing the table 
and putting some windows in the cook house, 
while he hung a door. This latter feat of sanitary 
engineering was accomplished by selecting a close 
woven meal sack, nailing it to the top of the door 
frame; then he wrapped a piece of green white 
birch in the lower part, and the architect had a 
self-closing door that would bang you on the 
shins every time you went near it. A rustic 
table was evolved, and a decrepit lantern was 
repaired and made serviceable by using some old 
tin cans and a wire nail. 
In the afternoon we received a call from an 
Indian guide, “Joe,” who came through swamps, 
rain and slush with moccasins sopping wet, to 
borrow one of our boats for use of the Aurora 
Ontario Hunting Club, who were camped a few 
miles east of us. The three row boats, being 
towed behind the tug that brought the Aurora 
crowd in, had filled and broken loose in Sturgeon 
3ay. The wind and sea was too high to permit 
their recovery until two days later, when they 
were reported ashore near Sucker Creek, and Joe 
went down and got them. 
Along in the afternoon of the second day, we 
heard two or three shots off toward the south, 
on the other side of the lake from our camp, but 
the weather was too rough, and we stayed at 
home. After supper, a council of war was held 
in the big tepee. and it was decided to run the 
dogs the next morning on the north side. After 
that conclusion was reached, we smoked the pipe 
of peace, Frank fulfilled his office of entertainer 
extraordinary and we all retired. In the wee 
sma’ hours the whole camp was aroused by a deep 
voice crying out, “If you move, I fire.” Frank 
and some Swiss cheese were mixing it up with 
a burglar in a dream. 
Friday, November 3. 
half an hour and broke ice to get water for wash- 
ing. That business of washing in ice water is a 
dissipation that can be freely indulged in, it is 
good medicine and no danger of acquiring the 
habit. Breakfast of buckwheat cakes, maple 
syrup, fried venison and lots of it; the first time 
any one of the junior bunch ever had just all 
they wanted. After eating everything in sight, 
the Major remarked as he loosened his belt and 
struggled to his feet, “Well, I guess that will do 
me until I get a regular meal.” 
The air that morning was filled with ozone of 
the finest brand and it made you want to walk 
a few miles for fun, so that is what we did. Bill 
and Charlie Annis took the three thoroughbred 
stag hounds, Music, Jim and Victor, and started 
due north with the dogs in leash. The rest of the 
hunters and guides scattered out, east by north, 
northeast, north, northwest and west by north to 
occupy stations on runways which had _ been 
allotted to them the night before. Time allow- 
ance of forty-five minutes was made for the men 
to get to their places, then a single shot by Sam, 
T. M. H., was the signal to loose the hounds. 
I arrived at my appointed place with my hunt- 
ing partner, Tom, and one of the guides (to hunt 
in pairs is best), just a few minutes before the 
crack of Sam’s rifle was heard from the west, 
and not more than ten minutes later Vic’s voice 
boomed, bayed and rolled almost due northwest 
and seemingly about one-half mile away. The 
hunt was on. My fingers and toes were feeling 
cold, but with the first note of Victor’s hunting 
song, I got warm all over, and although the air 
was sharp and cold, I stayed warm. 
Standing ‘“’neath the shade of a tall pine stub” 
for one hour and forty minutes, like the statue on 
Monument Hill, I listened to the dog’s music as 
it came closer, receded and finally worked out 
toward the lake on the southwest. Three shots 
from this direction, followed in about five heart 
beats by another, were interpreted by Clate as a 
kill. The first shooting, he explained, when 
asked, was done when the deer came in sight 
down the runway, and the last to put it out of 
pain after it was done. Now he was correct in 
his surmise, or partly so. The first three shots 
were fired as the deer came in sight along one of 
the sloughs, and were clean misses; the last was 
by a guide and it took only one. The first three 
shots were delivered into a charred log, about 
fifteen feet in front of the shooter; the deer was 
sixty yards in front, yet experienced hunters 
have told me the tendency is to shoot high with 
greenhorns. This doe was of good size; Charlie 
Annis brought it into the camp that night. Bill 
also got what he termed a fox with hoofs. He 
said he intended bringing it in, but was afraid it 
would slip out of his pocket and get lost. It 
was carried in a few days later and was a spring 
fawn weighing about ninety pounds. Good to 
eat? We'll I’m for that. The hounds failed to 
come in that night, and we heard them running 
game all night long off to the north. The next 
morning we hunted without dogs again—still- 
hunting—and all crossed over to the south side 
of the lake. During the entire day we heard Jim, 
Music and Vic trailing deer on the north side, 
but at no time did they get near camp. All of 
this Saturday was spent in careful stalking and 
sharp watching; a number of deer were seen and 
some long shots were taken without success, and 
when we gathered in late in the evening, we were 
all very well satisfied that the next day was the 
Day of Rest. 
November 5. Sunday morning.—Victor came 
home, as sore and sorry a dog as I have ever 
looked upon, gaunt, limping on all four feet, toes 
cut and bleeding and so stiff he could barely 
hobble in. Two Indian boys from the lumber 
camp, three miles east, brought the two other 
hounds in a boat that evening. The boys were 
rewarded with a silver piece by the Major, and 
the dogs had their feet and wounds dresssed, 
were fed and rubbed, then they crawled into the 
ae bowers and stayed there for forty-eight 
ours. 
Beat the sun up by 
[JUNE 16, 1906. 
The weather on Sunday was ideal, reminding 
me of my experience when a. boy, only a few 
years ago, the best fishing weather always came 
on Sunday then. 
Dinner was an event. White fish, pickerel, 
pheasant, roasted venison, potatoes, rice pudding 
with prunes, with Barney Dion to cook them and 
the sauce of appetites developed in the open, fur- 
nishes a meal from which to date time. 
The Major wanted to go to church, had his 
ear cocked all morning listening for fhe first 
sound of the bell, and at noon decided that the 
preacher had got on the wrong train. So he, 
and all of. us, read, wrote letters home, told 
stories and loafed until evening. After supper 
in the twilight, we sat outdoors and quietly 
watched the vaulted dome of the greatest cathe- 
dral being illuminated, and when we were ready 
to lay us down to sleep, we felt that the service 
we had listened to in the absolute stillness of 
the wilderness was edifying and the music of the 
stars inspiring. MIKE. 
[TO BE CONCLUDED. } 
Massachusetts Game. 
Boston, June 9—Editor Forest and Stream: 
There are some features of the report of: the 
State Commissioners on Fisheries and Game that 
should be a source of gratification to the disciples 
of game protection. The totals of fines imposed is 
given as $4,103.59, and the number of convictions 
326, both of which are considerably more than 
appear in the report of any preceding year. And 
while the number of convictions is not the only 
criterion for judging of the success of any force 
of deputies, it is one of the indications of success 
or failure of any system of enforcement. While 
enlightenment and moral suasion may accomplish 
much, there is a class of hunters and fishermen 
that can be reached in no way but by the severi- 
ties of the law. For such, laws are.made. We 
congratulate the Commission and deputies on 
making so good a showing. In the number of 
arrests, those for Sunday hunting lead in numbers 
with 87. Next is violation of shell-fish laws, 52; 
hunting without license, 25, which demonstrates 
the value of the law of 1905, imposing a fine on 
unlicensed foreigners who hunt; fishing in closed 
waters caused 24 arrests, and the fishing or 
possession of short lobsters, 22. 
Sawdust pollution caused 15 arrests, and the 
killing of song birds 20, while for taking short 
trout there were 11. Some of our- Berkshire 
friends, I am told by a member of the Legislature 
from Pittsfield, are still unreconciled to the Cinch 
law on trout, but there are not a few, even in 
Berkshire County, who are strongly in favor of 
the law. It would seem as if all fishermen 
might be reconciled to putting back trout six 
inches in length, provided they are not hooked in 
such a way as to prevent their survival in’ case 
they are returned to the water. In that case the 
trout may as well be retained as any way. There 
is no doubt the law limiting the length is difficult 
of enforcement,,and never can be well enforced 
until the deputies can demand that the angler 
show what he has in his basket (or pockets). 
Probably the eleven convictions are not 2 per cent. 
of the violations. 
Of the total of fines imposed more than one- 
fifth ($928.96) were the result of arrests made by 
unpaid deputies, leaving $3,174.63 derived from 
arrests made by the paid deputies, or an average 
of $108 each. Allowing 312 working days in the 
year, the average per day turned in would be 
about 63 cents. With a judicious search law, 
in all probability, that amount would be increased 
at least I00 per cent., which would be a saving to 
the State of more than $3,000, besides the iney- 
itable gain that would result in improved protec- 
tion, which, if estimated in dollars and cents, 
would be many thousands more. 
As your readers know, a “right of search” law 
was repeatedly urged by the late Captain Collins, 
who never gave up the hope of securing it. Dr. 
Field calls attention to the fact that the number 
of persons arrested in 1905 is I5 per cent. larger 
than in 1904, while the number of cases dis- 
charged is considerably less, which facts indicate 
“increased efficiency” on the part of the deputies. 
By the system of paid wardens all fines collected 
go into the treasury of the Commonwealth, while 
