SEPT. 21, 1907.] 
FOREST AND ‘STREAM. 

Cruising in New Brunswick. 
In the fall of ro04, while returning from a 
noose hunting trip up the Tobique, | formed 
he acquaintance of a hunter returning trom a 
similar trip in the Miramichi country. We were 
bhrown together on the night train coming down 
hrough Maine. He was suffering from a badly 
infected foot, while my mind was heayily bur- 
lened with thoughts of leaving behind a wounded 
noose that must die. There was a bond of sym- 
pathy created and a blending of spirit that make 
fast friends at the first meeting. 
/ One year later found us together following 
)ointer and setter through the alder swamps of 
Vermont. It was during this hunt in the fall 
If 1905 that we planned the outing of which | 
im about to write. Our original scheme was 
‘to go it alone,’ having had some bitter ex- 
Iyeriences with guides. We learned from the 
levised New Brunswick game laws, however, 
jhat it was necessary to have a licensed guide 
lccompany us. This was a disappointment, for 
we were both eager to test our knowledge of 
Ivoodcraft and fight the elements alone. After 
i. little delay and much letter writing we got 
n correspondence with a woodsman named 
ames Sterey, of Doaktown, N. B. 
| By agreement, on Sept. 16, I met my friend 
Fred in Boston at the North station. On Sept. 
(7, a little after dark, we arrived at Doaktown, 
sur destination. The usual number of curious 
llatives were gathered about the station, all 
sagerly watching for “sports.” From out the 
:rowd came a staunch woodsman who informed 
jis his name was Storey. We at once asked 
where was his team, for he had written that 
1e would meet and take us and our duffle to 
jis home ready for an early start the next 
jnorning. We were somewhat fazed when he 
said we had better go to the hotel for the night, 
is his team was not ready. We wanted a defi- 
hite understanding, so told him to meet us at 
he hotel after supper. Our former experiences 
pad made us a little shy and we did not an- 
end to get left on this trip. 





| The hour spent in that little hotel sleeping 
thamber after supper will never be forgotten. 
[The woodsman sat on a chair in the corner, 
Ivhile we held down the bed and in turn fired 
jJuestions at him. He stood the examination 
well and we were convinced from his replies 
‘hat he was to be trusted. Although this was 
his first experience as a guide, he was an ex- 
fyerienced woodsman, and had cruised for lum- 
er and hunted all over the country we intended 
yO cover. _It was agreed that Storey should 
Ineet us with a team early the following morn- 
‘ng, and haul our duffle to the permanent camp 
m the Bartholomew River. Before we retired, 
he provisions, which were ordered ahead from 
\Mr. Hildebrand, the genial proprietor of the 
little grocery store, were packed away in water- 
yroof bags, and old hunting clothes, cooking 
mutfit, tents, blankets, etc., were transferred from 
‘yur steamer trunks to the knapsacks. 
} At 6 o'clock the following morning the double 
itch with our outfit left the hotel and rumbled 
hp the valley road for a couple of miles, then 
orded the broad Miramichi River to the little 
Inster of: houses locally called Storeyville. 
‘rom here brother Dan Storey accompanied us 
lo bring the team back to the settlement. A 
wndred yards from Jimmie’s home we struck 
he tote road. Stripped to our flannel shirts, 
iare-headed and full of hope we strode ahead 
f the team, ready for the disappointments and 
jleasures which were stored away in the dark 
ecesses of the great forest far beyond. It was 
n ideal fall morning, the air was heavily laden 
vith the fragrance of the fog-distilled perfumes 
lf the woods. At 1 o’clock we reached the limit 
|f travel with wheels, having covered ten miles. 
the horses were given their dinner, after which 
4Jan returned with them to the settlement. The 
semainder of the day was consumed in putting 
yp tents and getting camp in working order 
+ After two days of exploring this territory we 
liscovered we had pitched our tents in the very 
nidst of big game hunters; within three miles 
here were two parties who were covering the 
Hountry we had intended to hunt. That night 
ve spread out the hunting map before Jimmie, 
| 
i] 






TAXIDERMY 
From a photegraph by 
and after much discussion decided to visit the 
country around Valentine Lakes, which lay about 
nine miles north of us. Early the next morn- 
ing rations for four days were packed, also a 
lean-to tent, blankets and a light cooking out- 
fit. We shouldered our heavy packs and waded 
the Bartholomew River and struck an old grip 
trail that led to the tote road. This we fol- 
lowed, crossing the Dungarvan River and up the 
steep incline past Robinson’s new lumber camps 
At intervals we stopped and allowed Fred to 
pick off a grouse with his short range cartridges. 
When the birds came too fast for him I would 
get the ten-inch pistol to work. We arrived at 
the lakes shortly after noon and at once com- 
menced to explore for signs and a favorable loca- 
tion for camp. While doing this we came to a 
spotted tree which contained the following in- 
scription: “M. and W. Tucker hunt from Bum- 
fort Brook down to Salmon Hole and through 
to South Branch of Renous.” 
After the long tramp to again run into a bunch 
of hunters was disappointing indeed, and while 
discussing the situation we heard eleven heavy 
shots fired in the swamp across the lake. Jim- 
mie’s remark, “This be no safe place,’ found 
ready belief; that territory was surely pre- 
empted. Again the map was brought forth and 
every part of the country for twenty miles 
around was discussed. Finally we concluded to 
strike for the headwaters of the Bartholomew, 
distant about ten miles in a westerly direction. 
Without stopping to boil the kettle we again 
shouldered our packs, for we were determined 
to get into a game country and if possible to 
be alone. As the dark shadows of the forest 
warned us of the approach of night we came 
upon a trapper’s shack. On opening the little 
door, which allowed one to enter only in a stoop- 
ing position, we found a cozy interior with table 
bunk, stove and plenty of dry wood. We soon 
had a roaring fire going and a spider of grouse 
cooking. That night Jimmie and I slept on a 
bough bed on the floor while Fred tucked him- 
self away in his sleeping bag on the bunk. Time 
passed quickly and the hour for tackling the 
packs came all too soon. However, at mid-day 
we were pitching our lean-to near the head- 
waters of the Bartholomew and were alone, sur 
rounded by the best looking mocse country wi 
had seen. In the evening on the barrens the 
birchbark horn got several answers, and signs 
were abundant everywhere. That night, about 
the roaring camp-fire of birch logs, we talked 
long of the prospects for the morrow. 
Before sunrise the next morning we were at 
the dam which the lumbermen had built across 
the Bartholomew. Fred spied a likely looking 
pool below the dam and said he would rather 
fish—he hadn’t lost any moose, anyway.  Pick- 
ing up a lumberman’s pole for a rod, he rigged 
IN CAMP. 
Fred W. Osgood 
a line and commenced action. At every cast the 
end of that great pole showed above the dam 
and Jimmie got so nervous that it took quite 
a bit of coaxing to get him in a mood to blow 
the horn. We walked out a hundred yards from 
the dam to the barrens. It was a perfect morn- 
ing for calling. There was a dead calm, and 
a light fog hung over the valley. I said to 
Jimmie, “Just give one low call.” 
“It’s no use,” said he, “with that fishing going 
on below the dam; a moose would see that pole 
a mile away. Let’s wait until night.” 
After much urging Jimmie put the horn to 
his lips and gave a low call. The sound had 
scarcely died away when he laid his hand on 
my arm, and pointing to the ridge of the dam 
said, “Did you hear that? A bull moose got 
up then.” 
A moment later, and an answer was distinctly 
heard, with the cracking of brush and the now 
steady wah! wah! wah! as the moose came down 
the side of the ridge. ‘Too bad,” said Jimmie, 
“he will never cross the brook above the dam.” 
The bull had now reached the fringe of alders 
which skirted the open, where he stopped to 
listen. 
“Give a 
out.” 
The low whimper Jimmie gave 
imitation of a cow moose I ever heard. At once 
the bull answered and commenced to force his 
way through the tangle of alders, his big antlers 
scraping on the brush as he came Then the 
splashing of water was heard. “He is coming, 
said I, “and he will come 
low call,” 
was the best 
sure. Wish you were at the dam; a fine shot 
you would have there,’ whispered Jimmie. 
At that very moment three shots rang out in 
rapid succession, followed by the crashing of 
brush, and all was still. We hurried over and 
found Fred standing on the dam looking calmly 
it three unexploded shells. 
“T thought you were fishing,” said | 
“T have been,” he replied, “and was dressing 
my catch when the moose cane over the ridge 
He made such a racket I took a peep over the 
dam, and seeing he had a good head I opened 
upon him. The first three cartridges missed fire, 
] 
but I kept pumping and [ll bet I cauceht him 
with some of the last three before he reached 
the timber.” 
We waited a half hour, 
and at once found plenty of blood 
then took up the trail 
We had ad- 
vanced scarcely fifty yards when the great beast 
broke cover not ten vards ahead of us. Jimmie, 
who was nearest and whose only we pon was 
an axe, promptly made for a nearby tree while 

Fred and I got in two shots each at the fleefng 
bull. The shooting was made uncertain by the 
thick growth of small fir and juniper, but some 
a short 
The 
one’s aim was gsood, for the bull ran but 
distance and fell at the edge of the barren. 

