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TORTSMAN TOURIST | 

Doc Warren's Pets 
An Adirondack Story 
NE morning during the severe winter of 
O 1904-5, when the snow lay three feet 
Warren 
to his wife, “Well, Mary, as the chores are all 
the fed, I Vil 
and I’ve got a little 
deep on the level, “Doc” said 
done and pets have been 
hitch start 
business to look after and might as well attend 
guess 
up tor town. 
to it to-day as any time.” 
Doc Warren was a game protector, who lived 
upon a small farm abutting the mountains in 
New York State. 
sisted of seven deer which had taken up their 
The “pets” referred to con- 
abode among the sheltering evergreens of the 
Adirondacks near the home of the game pro 
tector. As their food became scarce in the 
mountains, the deer began to wander into the 
valley and thus made the acquaintance of the 
Doc Warren. They 
welcomed and fed regularly from his stock of 
hay and grain, until they lost their timid:ty, 
family of were warmly 
and became so friendly that Doc’s wife learned 
to love them and christened them, each with an 
appropriate name. 
“You ought to have seen them this morning, 
Mary,” continued Doc. 
getting bold. They were all waiting for break- 
fast at the edge of the timber when I went out, 
and that old buck you call ‘The Parson’ hounded 
me right into the barnyard and tried to pull the 
hay off the fork, and ‘Mother Doe’ nosed around 
“They certainly are 
the feed bag all the way out from the barn. 
They’re getting so tame they'll be going through 
my pockets next. But it’s all right and I’m 
growing fonder of those critters every day.”’ 
“SG. Piso ee Mrs. Warren. “Why! 
yesterday morning ‘Mother Doe’ and her fawn 
replied 
tagged around after me like hungry dogs till I 
went into the cellar and brought out a basket 
of those sweet apples. My! how they did go 
for em! We can’t spare many of those sweet 
apples, but I didn’t have the heart to see them 
go hungry. I’d sooner get along without any- 
thing than see those poor critters 
wouldn’t you, Doc?” 
“Of course I would,” responded Doc, “and 
they shan’t starve as long as I’m able to feed 
them.” 
Warren was a tall, broad-shouldered speci- 
men of a mountaineer, with brawny arms, an 
honest face and a large heart. He had a fair 
education for a man isolated as he was from 
city life and public schools, but had always been 
suffer, 
By HARRY CHASE 
a great reader and was much of a true phil- 
Until he entered the employ of the 
State as game protector, he was a guide for 
hunters and fishermen. It had always been his 
boast that he brought in the biggest bag of game 
and fish, and that his clients whom he guided 
did the He 
deer stalker, woodsman and naturalist, and never 
gave the matter of game and fish protection his 
thoughts or attention; he was too busy hunting. 
But induced to become a pro- 
tector, his point of view changed. As 
to his wife at the time, ““No more shooting birds 
on the ground or off the trees. No more snar- 
ing birds and rabbits, or putting out poison for 
animals. And I won’t allow dogs to run the 
deer to death or drive them into ponds to be 
shot; nor will I go out in a boat at night and 
jack them. No, Mary, I’m through; that’s all.” 
This was Doc’s new creed, and faithfully did 
he adhere to it. 
osopher. 
same, was a famous marksman, 
when he was 
he said 
On the morning in question Doc hitched up 
his horse and started for town—five miles away. 
As he left his home, he cast one glance at his 
pets slowly wending their way up the moun- 
tain side. 
About the same time Jim Wescott and Joe La 
Blanche met at Miller’s lumber camp on the op- 
posite side of the mountain, and the following 
conversation took place: 
“Did you bring in your dogs with you this 
morning, Joe?” 
“Yes, and that black-and-tan hound there (in- 
dicating the direction of the camp kitchen) is 
the best deer dog that ever left Canada. I got 
him from my brother who lives near Quebec.” 
“Good!” said Jim, “we've been needing some 
venison in this camp for several days, and I 
just heard yesterday where there's seven deer 
yarded right over this mountain. I'll have the 
boys leave one team in camp for us, so we can 
bring in two or three deer if we have good 
luck. Get your rifle and dogs, Joe, and let’s be 
off, as it’s quite a distance over to that yard.” 
After eating and their fill at 
Warren's, the pets had passed leisurely up their 
beaten trail and _ toiled the rocks and 
windfalls till they found themselves among the 
sheltering pines and hemlocks. Then one by 
one they dropped into their day-beds where the 
drinking 
over 
wind and would not bother them. All 
had taken the usual trail but Mother Doe and 
her fawn. The latter frisked about whenever 
he came to an open spot. The doe followed him 
indifferently until finally the two wandered away 
from the herd to a large clearing near the top 
of the mountain. This slash was badly drifted 
in places, while at others the great sweeping of 
the wind had left the ground nearly bare. Here 
doe and fawn idled away nearly an hour. 
Suddenly the threw up her head sus- 
piciously and the fawn’s head went up at the 
same time. They looked at each other. What 
was it? Did the doe hear the danger signal? 
Vainly she sniffed the gale, but it was blowing 
from the opposite direction and she could make 
out nothing. Her fawn resumed his frolicking, 
but she was not yet satisfied. She retraced her 
steps to the edge of the mountain and listened. 
She had not long to wait. Far away on her 
back track she could hear the “Yip! yip!” of 
sSnOW 
doe 
hounds. Instantly all was confusion in her 
brain. What was she to do? She floundered in 
the snow to collect her wits. As the baying 
came nearer the fawn trembled with fear and 
hugged his mother’s side. She could not go 
east, for well she knew the danger on that side 
of the mountain—lumber camps, dogs and men. 
She could not go west, for then she would run 
into the dogs on the slippery trail. North or 
south of the clearing the snow was so deep that, 
while she could distance them for a time, her 
fawn would quickly fall a victim to the hounds. 
While thus and counting her 
chances of escape, the hounds came into view 
over the crest of the mountain. She must save 
her fawn at any cost to herself, so she made one 
grand leap into a big drift. The fawn attempted 
to follow. The snow crust held him up in some 
places and at others let him down, but at last he 
succeeded in scrambling to his mother’s side. 
There he was wedged in so that only his head 
showed above the but the doe seemed 
pleased, and instantly put into execution her 
plan to save him. She bounded out of the drift 
again at one leap and took her back track to 
try to lead the hounds away from the fawn’s 
hiding place. She crossed and recrossed her 
back trail until it was all torn up. Then she 
ran a few jumps parallel to her trail and 
stopped. The hounds stopped where the trail 
was torn up and tried to puzzle it out, when one 
hesitating 
snow, 














































