6 
Reg. U. S. Pat. Off. 
The Greatest Sporting 
Goods Store in the World 

Touching 
—_-_- -<—_———————————————— eS 

For the yellow legs—the opening 
chorus—already tripping along the 
beaches. 
Touching up your outdoor ward- 
robe for Autumn activities, town 
and country. 
Burberry gabardine suits—Cold 
Stream duck jackets and breeches. 
Scotch grain, water-tight, shoot- 
ing brogues. 
Moleskin and corduroy field 
shooting coats—hunting caps and 
hats, cruiser shirts, sturdy hunting 
sweaters, socks and stockings. 
Largest assortment of foreign 
and American shotguns, rifles and 
accessories ever assembled by any 
one house in the world. 

Write for Shooting Booklets 
dbercrombie 
& Fitch Co- 
EZRA H. FITCH, President 
Madison Ave. and 45th St 
New York 
“Where the Blazed Trail 
Crosses the Boulevard” 


A86 
In writing to Advertisers mention Forest and Stream. 
Capturing a Wild Cat 
There Was Plenty of Action While It Lasted 
By ‘‘FLANAGAN” 
shore of Reel Foot Lake in Ten- 
nessee, which is a famous hunt- 
ing and fishing resort. My father 
lived about ten miles from the lake, 
and two or three times each winter he, 
with others, would go there for a 
short hunting trip, to kill ducks and 
geese. On this occasion I was per- 
mitted to go along also. I was four- 
teen years old, but had never yet seen 
the lake, so you can imagine how proud 
I was to be allowed this privilege. I 
was not much of a hunter and my 
game had to be still if I was expected 
to kill it. I had done some trapping 
around the farm for ’coon, ’possum, 
mink and rats and had been very suc- 
cessful for a mere boy, so I was going 
to be the trapper on this hunt. 
r [ “ scene of this story is on the 
I did not carry a gun with me; I 
had none to carry. My father, an 
uncle, and a man named John Cole 
and myself composed the party. We 
rigged up a two horse wagon, loaded 
our horse feed, some bedding and other 
things that we needed, while I loaded 
up eight steel traps and a hatchet as 
my part of the outfit and away we 
went to the lake. 
We reached the hunting grounds 
about an hour before sunset, and while 
the men were fixing the camp, getting 
some wood and preparing supper, I 
took my traps and hatchet and went 
up the lake shore to set them. I had 
set them all but one when I came to a 
large hollow cypress tree with a hole 
in one side at the ground and a pond 
of water all around the tree. The 
water was all muddled up and the soft 
mud around the pond was so cut up 
with tracks that I could not tell what 
had been there. I waded into the 
water and set my trap in a hole of 
the tree and returned to camp to dream 
of what I might catch during the 
night. 
Berges sunrise the next morning 
I was on my way to my traps, 
armed with my hatchet. I got two 
half grown ’coons from seven traps 
and when I reached the one in the hol- 
low tree, I saw that the trap was 
pulled back into the hollow and my 
hopes ran high for another ’coon. I 
waded into the water and_ stooping 
over put my face down into the hollow 
to see what I had in the trap. It was 
dark inside and I could see nothing ex- 
cept two large red eyes glaring at me. 
Hearing a harsh growl or snarl, and a 

rattle of the trap chain, I knew I had 
a wild cat in that trap, and he was 
moving toward me. 
ELL, I moved also, but in the op- 
posite direction. He took a slap 
at me with one paw and just scratched 
my right cheek with one of his claws. 
He sprang at me with rage but he did 
not reach me. . I was moving away 
with my best jumping powers, and I 
beat him jumping, as the trap chain 
checked him. Just one claw of a fore 
foot was in the trap, but it held him. 
When the chain became taut he 
changed ends and fell into the water 
with a splash, and ran back into the 
hollow, but I did not stop running. I 
was a very fleet-footed boy and no boy 
in our public school could outrun me 
at play, but on that occasion I am 
satisfied I outran any previous record 
I had ever made. I outran my own 
hat and left it to be picked up on the 
return trip. I often wonder what 
would have happened if that cat had 
got a fair slap at my face. He cer- 
tainly would have ruined my looks. 
The men at the camp saw me coming 
and they all came running to meet me. 
Father and uncle each had a shot gun 
and Mr. Cole had an axe. We went — 
back to the tree and I was allowed to 
shoot the cat, which I did by getting 
on my knees about thirty feet from 
the tree so I could see his eyes in the 
dark hollow. The way the men joked 
me about running was simply out- 
rageous. Father said the only two 
tracks he could see were about fifteen 
feet apart, and Mr. Cole told that 
where the path led under a fallen tree 
I went over the log with a leap when 
I could have gone under it. Well, I did 
do some of my best running, but if 
that wild cat’s toe had not held him 
Tt will identify you. 
