Jun and w

| | Will iam s. Thomas

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ee Se Se,
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. Rakiy
Pang. Spotl
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“Pith V
uoM-pire
Aydoay,

NTING BIG GAME

TH GUN AND WITH KODAK

Record of Personal Experiences in
the United States, Canada,
and Mexico.

i ee
WILLIAM Ss. THOMAS

‘¢

_ G.P. PUTNAM’S SONS
4 NEW YORK AND LONDON
‘The Knickerbocker Press

con A pis 1906 ;

| WILLIAM S, THOMAS

te ae

AA 4

’ CONTENTS _

.

Bie Game witu A TENDERFOOT

ae Bie Game witn a Kopax .

PAGE

125
151
167
209

237

+ PAGE
. . Frontispiece
s eau sae cen es ae |
Strver Streak or THE Fraser . . . = 5

7 ‘ ParapisE
RE eh a Seg Uns ae ae oa eee

Bruin Crossep THE Pack. : Ne «|
re OHMCR 6G ee BB
M Camp : eh ‘ . . . . ° : 61

viii | Illustrations

Down THE SNow-SLIDE
Pouine THE Rapips.
Linine THE Rapips
SUNSET ON THE COLUMBIA
Surprise Rapips

REFLECTION THROUGH THE CoTTONWooDs

His Favorite Position

Our First Visitor

Ur tHe ResticoucHEe

SATISFYING THE INNER Man

Tue Busnes Parrep

A Carisou Tropuy

ANOTHER Cow . : . F
Ducks SKIMMING OVER THE WATER
SHOEING THE HorsE

By Twos .

Hossiine Aa Horse

Pecutiar ForMATION OF SANDSTONE .

Cave Vatitey ForMATION

Aztec CAvE AND Ewer

READY FOR THE DRIVE
LisTENING . P ‘ :
SKULKING FROM COVER. °
On THE’ CrossinG

Do.erut Cry or THE Loon
Fiso-Hawk’s Nest ; ;
Wirn a Tump Line. ‘
Tati Timser Is_tanp

Home or THE MoosE f

On THE PorTAGE ;

A Tenverroot Up a Tree . :

PAGE
64
67
68 ©
69
73
78
79
84
87
92
96

102

111

123

129

132

139

146

147

149

154

156

157

160

174

175

178

184

186

189

190

Illustrations sige

OF THE Forest ane . ae . 201

REFLECTION . ne : R19

ee ite eo. 219
vo TELL THE SHoRE-LINE. . . 222
ss st 988
Spor ror Game... ; se |
MM Speke eo ae cS BBS

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MME cee Ge R80

Hunting Big Game

CHAPTER I

’ A HUNTING TRIP AFTER BIGHORN

SHCROFT, British Columbia, was the
starting-point; the time, the closing days
of August. Equipped with a .30-30 and a
customs-officer’s. hunting license tucked away
in the money-belt, with Lillooet the end of the
journey on wheels, the outfit jolted along the
old Caribou Road, travelled by gold-seekers
to the Klondike, along which, story said,
many were the bones left bleaching in the
mountains. Quite a few Indians we met on
our way, and several attempts were made to
get a kodak picture of an old squaw and her
papoose; but all seemed to have a horror of
the kodak, and our persistency almost got us
into trouble.

2 A Hunting Trip

A pert of the journey, driving through the
Marble Canyon on a road kept up by the
Government which wound through a narrow
defile of the mountain, with perpendicular
sides of limestone appearance, was delightful.

Pe

Reflections.

In this canyon, nestled among the trees, was
a beautiful lake some four miles long, the
water as blue as indigo as though Mother
Nature was ready for wash-day and had
rolled her bluing-ball into the lake from the

mountain-top.

4
‘a

lady he said, “ O, them d

After Bighorn 4

The absence of bird life was noticeable; and
the entire road was traversed without seeing a
living creature except a solitary sandpiper,
with its mottled gray body skimming over the
beautiful blue water in its zigzag flight. Down
into the canyon came the rays of the setting
sun over the snow-clad mountain-peaks, cast-
ing reflections into the depths of the crystal
blue. What a spot for the artist! How we
longed for the time to come when the kodak
shall be invented to reproduce those beautiful
tints!

About sundown, the horses, steaming hot,

reached the Grange, a second relay stop; where

we had fresh horses and a bite to eat at the
wayside inn or rather ranch. Our driver, who
had had an invitation that evening to a little
gathering among the “ wild-flowers” of the
mountain, coaxed, intimidated, and _ finally
threatened in order to dissuade us from going
the balance of the twenty-five miles to Lillooet.
In a conversation (overheard) with a young
Yankees are de-
termined to go to Lillooet to-night.” So the
good time anticipated by the driver vanished,

4 A Hunting Trip

and his square jaws tightened, as much as to

say “ Well, I will give you a ride to- Bic. for
your lives.”

The driver seemed after that to be arin
for the start. Twirling his whip over his head,
with a crack, he shouted, ‘‘ All aboard,” as he
waved adieu to the little ‘‘ wild-flower ” blush-
ing in the evening twilight.

The horses started with a dash, and the
ranchman shouted after us “ Good-bye Joe, I
am sorry for you.”

The night was pleasant, with a soft breeze
blowing, the stars shining brightly; and as
the steeds warmed up with the crack of the
whip they just flew along. After a ride of
four or five miles we reached the Fraser River.
Looking into the canyon we could see a silver
streak no wider than a wagon road apparently,
which we knew was the foaming and seething
river as it rolled and tossed on its mad rush
to the sea. The steeper the grade the faster
went the horses and at times the curve was so
short that it seemed almost impossible to make
the turn. Occasionally we would come to an
ascent when the horses would slow up, then —

After Bighorn 5

the driver would entertain us with stories of
different parties who lost control of their
horses and went down into the river many feet
below. On one of the mad dashes of our

driver down into the canyon the wheels struck

The Silver Streak of the Fraser.
a rock and lifted us inches from our seat; and
when the writer remarked, “ This is exciting,”
it seemed only to goad him on. As we came
to the narrow and most dangerous curves, with
the silvery water of the river almost perpendic-
ularly below us, while going at a breakneck

6 A Hunting Trip

speed, how he managed to keep the road was
a mystery; for we could at times scarce make
out its outlines through the trees. Like a
flash the off horse tripped, fell on his knees,
and was dragged for a second or two, when the
driver with a “‘ cuss” jerked him onto his feet
again as he hissed through his teeth an ex-
clamation of fear. For once I lost my nerve
and fully realized what a mad ride it was, and
what that set expression of the driver’s face
meant, when he found he would be deprived of
the pleasure of a dance with the belle from
Marble Canyon on the Fraser.

Arriving at Lillooet in the wee small hours,
the team stopped at a quaint old tavern; and
as we alighted from the rig, the proprietor, a
typical character of his kind, in his weazen
voice, although he was a large robust man past
middle life, saluted us with “ How d’e! Come
in.” Several others, the usual adjuncts of a
tavern in a mining town, looked us over; and as
we stepped into the bar-room, one little fellow,
strutting up to the bar, began to hammer,
shouting at the top of his voice: “ Strangers
in town, boys! lLet’s have a bumper, let’s ©

Aiter Bighorn 7

have a bumper. Here’s to the healtly of the
newcomers.”

A Familiar Figure.

Lillooet is a small mining town, nestled

*

8 A Hunting Trip

between the high hills along the Fraser. The
population at one time amounted to some

5000 souls, but the present population does not
exceed 200, consisting of all nationalities, In-.
dians, Chinese, and Africans included. The
above photograph is of a familiar figure to be
seen at all times promenading up and down
the middle of the main street.
Allarrangements having been made forthe de-
parture bright and early the following day, the
evening was spent in sight-seeing. A visit to
Chinatown, suggested by a new-made friend,
was kindly accepted. A tramp down a narrow
dark lane brought us to a cluster of adobe
houses, filled to overflowing with Chinese and
half-breeds, each with an air of mystery. The
adobe huts seemed to have communicating tun-
nels between them, and every hut contained a
dozen or more Chinese playing fan-tan. The
highbinders had their annual festive day, and
amid the burning of incense could be heard the
playing of the cymbals at frequent intervals
during the evening. While returning to the
inn a strange noise was heard, reminding one,
in the stillness of the night, of the sad and ~

After Bighorn 9

mournful call of the loon. Attracted by the
noise coming from the darkness, the guide
investigated and came upon a squaw driven
almost to the verge of suicide, chanting her
own death-knell. Curious are the characters
in a mining town, and exciting are the stories
related of earlier days. On our return to
the inn, the bar-room was filled with a motley
_erowd of characters and the chaperon would
call them, one by one, to be introduced to the
newcomer. ‘The first hailed was “ Scotty,”
who had spent $30,000 in two years “right

>

over this bar”; “ Scotty,” advancing, made a

grab and said, “ Give me your paw, how the

h

counter and violently shouting, “ Let ’s have a

are you ” at the same time thumping the

bumper to the stranger.” The next introduc-
tion was “ Bones,” a long, lean, lank fellow
who, as he himself expressed it, “ originally
hailed from Arizona and was known as the
mighty nimrod who had killed, in hand-to-
hand encounter, more grizzlies than all others
in the surrounding diggings.” With him it
was, “ Let’s all have a smile with the stran-
ger.” And with the “smile” he volunteered

10 A Hunting Trip

to guide us to the greatest hunting ground
in the district. Presently a hard-eyed, wild
Irishman of the shillaly type “who could
dance to a whistle and had made two fortunes.
and spent three” came up.

On the following morning down the road
came the pack-train with the bell-mare in the
lead and Tyhee Jimmy, chief of the Lillooet
Indians, astride and in charge of the outfit,
with Napoleon as assistant. Everything was
ready in a short time for the start, with the five ~
pack-horses loaded to their fullest capacity.

We left Lillooet and followed the Ridge
River, which winds like a serpent down the de-
file of the mountain; our course being always
higher and higher, until the sun was about
disappearing behind the western snow-clad
mountain-peaks like a ball of molten metal,
warning us that camp must be pitched forth-
with. The spot selected was well adapted for
the purpose. Nature had provided the ele-
ments necessary and essential to camp life,
right at the entrance of a natural basin and
feeding ground for the horses, and they were
soon turned locse to graze for the night.

After Bighorn II

After supper all retired early, but erelong
a commotion awoke the slumbering camp; and
in the stillness of the night could be heard the
“tinkle, tinkle”’ of a bell, and away went the
guides to head off the old bell-mare. The

Ridge River

“horses had all started for home and were on

the trail down the mountain; but before they
reached the narrow pass they were headed off
by the chief and returned to the canyon basin
where they remained the rest of the night.
The next morning the camp was astir bright

"Peay, ey da zi

‘Hunting Trip after Bighorn 13

rly. Each onc had his duty to perform,
le one went for the horses, the others
camp and assorted and arranged the
rding to the strength of the horses,
in the meantime preparing breakfast.

hisky-jack flew around from limb to
ecasionally turning his inquisitive little
much as to say “ What’s all this mean,
’ and, true to his nature, was waiting

sty breakfast and all hands were busy
Ig > getting Reaty. ssasd the start up the

14 Hunting Trip after Bighorn

greatest skill to get the pack on the broncos.

It is wonderful how rapidly a pack train can
be gotten ready to start under the supervision
of an adept at the business; and how pleasant

Home of the Bighorn.

sounds the “ fall in, fall in” of the guide, as
the procession moves single-file up the trail
in the dawn of a September atmosphere, keen
and brisk, with the torrent rushing, tossing, and
foam:ng down the gulch. About noon a halt

‘Tou, puowurery oy Sr

16 A Hunting Trip

was called for refreshments, and under protest
we were required to pitch camp for the night
—much to the regret of the nimrod. After
lunch an afternoon’s hunt was suggested, so we
climbed the mountain, following the river as
close by as possible. Choke-cherries were
growing along the first narrow level bench
above the stream, and signs of bear were
plentiful, indicating they were feeding on the
cherries, as several limbs, thick as one’s wrist,
were twisted and broken by old bruin in order
to get the cherries. Presently the guide called
attention to two white objects slowly descend-
ing the mountains about a mile in the distance
and on the opposite side of the narrow, swift,
and turbulent little stream. As we ap-
proached nearer, we could clearly make out
the old Billy in the lead and Nanny following,
evidently going for water.

Although we were forced to travel for some
time in open view of the goats, they did not
seem to be alarmed and continued on their
journey a considerable distance toward us.
Finally they stopped and seemed to be
alarmed. By this time they were within 500 —

After Bighorn 17

yards; and as it was impossible to get nearer,
the guide suggested a trial shot which could be
plainly seen striking the hard rock some dis-
tance below. After adjusting the Lyman

sights, several shots were tried in quick succes-

Billy and Nanny.
sion with better results, and although Billy
stood still it was apparent he was badly
wounded and presently he began to run and
fell down the mountainside, landing many feet
below on a shelving rock. Well pleased with

18 A: Hunting Trip

the afternoon’s hunt, we returned to camp in
good time for our share of the speckled beau-
ties caught by the cook and browned to perfec-
tion. The following morning a late start was
made because one of the horses had wandered
from the band and was not found for several
hours. At this point we left the course of the
stream and started up the backbone of a ridge
where the ascent was very steep for many
miles through chaparral, stunted pines, and
scrub oaks. Higher and higher we climbed
by a serpentine path, around, through, under,
and over trees in all stages of decay, with their
roots intertwining each other and reaching
cut in every possible direction as though
searching for nourishment in the very bed-
rock. ‘The trees were so close, at times, it
was difficult for the pack-horses to squeeze
through and we held our breath waiting the
effect of the squeeze as we saw our water-proof
rubber-bags torn by snags, but each turn
brought us a little higher until we reached an
altitude of little vegetation. On the way we
flushed several covies of blue grouse, which
would utter their crackling cry of alarm as

After Bighorn. - 19

they took to wing, always lighting ‘on ‘the’
nearest tree, and craning their heads from
one side to the other. Suddenly the guide dis-
covered we were too high up to pitch’camp,
there being no water or wood, both very es-

Snow-drifts

sential for a good camp. Keeping on, we
reached the divide and the descent began; but
before long all were obliged to dismount, for it
was so steep for the greater part of the way
that the horses were sliding on their tails down

20 A Hunting Trip

through the shale. Low in the gully our
first camp was pitched at the cradle of one

Monarch of the Glen.

of the many sparkling streams, whose origin
is in the snow-drift above the clouds. |

After Bighorn 21

rly to bed and early to rise” is the
) of all enthusiastic hunters, and as the
_ streak of dawn began to peep over the
-snow-clad mountain-tops, the hunters
ickling on their armor preparatory to
rt. The atmosphere, keen and pierc-
kes the blood thrill with a hunter’s emo-
anticipation of the chase of the most
quarry. Scarcely had we left the camp
the guide pointed towards a narrow de-
d looking in the direction indicated I
“Monarch of the Glen,” head erect
the white throat patch, antlers re-

| of rest among the rocks above vegeta-
The camp being out of fresh meat, the
sharp report of the .30-30 rang out in the
ss and a young buck responded to the
The report reverberated from the

22 A Hunting Trip

snow-clad peaks, the home of the bighorn, and
we were anxious to make as little noise as pos-
sible, knowing how alert and ever-watchful the
quarry in its mountain fastnesses can _ be.
Many signs of game were perceptible to the

oa a

Clinging to the Peaks

eyes of an experienced guide as we tramped
over the snow and rocks, crushing the beautiful
flowers of many colors and varieties under our
feet. When the sun came out, a species of
the butterfly, with its gaudy wings grayish-
white speckled with black and red dots and.

e fog hung like a pall over the valley,
ag that we scarcely saw ten feet in any
ction. As we continued to climb, the fog
er and thinner and a light breeze
when we had reached the summit.
sight to see!—the fog clinging to the
arc side of the peaks, the gentle breezes

vy we were startled by two young black-
s, rising up from their beds cf stone.

24 Hunting Trip after Bighorn

change of position, and while I was shifting
my location the wind became unfavorable, and
they went with a snort. During the balance
of the day not a sight of game was had, and
at dusk we reached camp, tired, hungry, and
disgusted. The next day we shifted camp
some ten miles farther into the mountains, the
trail winding in and out among the crags and
peaks. With Tyhee in the lead and the bal-
ance following, the writer brought up the rear,
waiting for an opportunity to take a snap-shot
of the pack in the most dangerous place. To
do this, I let the bridle hang on the pommel,
and just in the most critical pass the old
bronco began to buck and I must confess my
heart ceased to beat for a moment until he re-
covered himself with one hind leg over the edge
of the trail. As we approached the top, the
guide began to sniff air like a hound on a lost
trail, at the same time whispering, “I smell
sheep ”; but, alas, the game had got the first
scent and made haste in flight from the pecu-
liar odor of men, leaving behind them a small
Jamb which seemed to be injured and limped

Camp Life.

26 A Hunting Trip

away with considerable speed. It was re-
markable how it disappeared from sight in
a place so barren.

Toward evening, while we were returning
to camp over a high ‘ridge above vegetation,
two black-tail deer were jumped, one, the
largest we saw on the trip, now adorning the
library of the writer. During the night it
started to rain and this continued for hours.
The . “ patter-patter” of the rain on the
stretched canvas makes sweet music to the ear
of the hunter, tired after a long tramp in
search of game, and quickly soothes one to
sleep. In the morning the ground was covered
with snow, giving the surroundings a pictur-
esque appearance, but the beautiful coat of
white snow soon disappeared. A hurried break-
fast was taken and before the peep of day in
the eastern horizon two forms could be seen
slipping quietly up the mountain pass, happy
in the expectation of obtaining the object
of their ambition. When the summit was
reached, the sun was just rising above the
horizon, indicating that the day would be hot
fer sport, but we trudged along; when sud-

After Bighorn 27

denly the guide exclaimed Scoulaps!—this
being the Indian name for sheep. A look in
the direction indicated disclosed a small black
object on the other side of a deep canyon pos-
sibly two or three miles distant from the place

Snow-Capped.

of observation. It was remarkable how the
guide could see game with his naked eye. — Al-
though the exact location was pointed out, it
was with the greatest difficulty I could make
out the small object, and only with the aid of

28 A Hunting Trip

a field-glass could I see the object to be a
sheep. Down the mountain we slid, crawled,
and slipped over loose stones, taking cover be-
hind every possible object in the descent. A
pause being made for a moment in our haste,
the field-glasses were again used in our anxiety
to learn if any change had taken place in the
conditions, since we started our stalk, and to
our discomfort the quarry was standing with
head erect looking directly toward us, and then
the Indian uttered some guttural expression of
regret, as we stole away under cover. When
we reached the bottom, the Indian started on
his circuitous route toward the top and I up
the canyon. The excitement under such condi-
tions is at its highest pitch, knowing that a mis-
step would overturn a stone, and away it would

go down the mountain, with a loud report.
Occasionally a stone would be overturned

and grabbed immediately to a standstill; then
a dry twig would be snapped, a crack and a
wry face follow. Finally afterabouttwo hours’
_ stalk the old bighorn ram, the noblest beast of
__ the chase, is in sight, feeding at the foot of a
perpetual snow-drift at the base of a slide.

After Bighorn 29

is that the nerves thrill in every fibre.
: look for some advantage to get nearer
:d a slight elevation to the right. about
01 - hundred yards away, and a large rock a
tle beyond this. In order to reach this point,
as necessary to crawl over the ground,
ng the gun along in advance, foot by
at the same time knowing the slightest
ure would have been observed by the old
» between nibbles, for every few minutes
ald lift his head and scan the country as
h he expected to see an adversary. F'i-
the cover was reached and peering over
d the game in the same place and still
cious of a lurking foe, but still a little
of range. Taking in the situation at a
ee, I discovered that by crossing over a
2, rippling with cold snow water, another
sful stalk could be made, by crawling
‘ore, where another rock could be reached >
1 about two hundred yards of the sheep.
1 I reached the coveted spot, with ca
ved, I cautiously glanced over the lar
joulder with a feeling of anxiety lest the nob
rry had taken the alarm and was speeding

30 A Hunting Trip

up the mountain; but to my delight he was still
feeding, unconscious of danger.

Who can describe the feeling of an en-
thusiastic hunter under such conditions? Con-
cealed behind’a rock, panting for breath in
the rare atmosphere after his long climb up
the crags and cliffs, and knowing that a steady
aim is impossible under such conditions, but
absolutely necessary in order to make-a telling
shot! In a few seconds, seeming minutes, a
glance over the edge was again made cau-
tiously and Mr. Ram still plucked the seanty
growth of vegetation, still unaware of the lurk-
ing danger.

In the meantime I was playing for wind.
waiting for time to steady my nerves for the
final effort. During the stalk the wind was
favorable, and no sun to shine on the barrel
of the gun made the conditions equitable to
- both the hunter and the noble game. In a
short time another peep over the rock, and

there he stood broadside, head erect, with his

ghite muzzle elevated, sniffing the air, evi-

- dently conscious of something unusual.

Now or never was the thought that im-

After Bighorn 31

d itself upon me, for the time had come
tion. Full of anticipation, my heart
with over-exertion, a hand unsteady
» final effort, I elevated the Lyman
taking into consideration the distance
lowing for the rare atmosphere which
to deceive one in calculating the distance,
d along the barrel of my .30-30, pulled
ger, looked, and saw the shale fly in all
ons Just over his back. An exclamation
ed more forcible than elegant and my
ram was speeding down the mountain-
at the rate of a mile a minute (more or
), covering 20 to 30 feet at a jump, running
angle of 45° towards me. When he
J a point about 70 yards away and was
disappearing over a rocky ridge, again
30-30 flashed and immediately a death-like
s pervaded the canyon, as the report
and re-echoed in the distant crags.
ot knowing the result of the second shot, I
an over the slight elevation in order to get —
her shot before he could reach the s
the cliff, but nowhere could he be seen.
nm took heart and began to climb to the

32 A Hunting Trip

spot where I had fired my last shot and there
he was, shot through the front shoulder, and in
a short time he breathed his last. The proud-
est moment of a man’s life—successful!

Bighorn Ram.

And the ram had been fairly outwitted
by a stalk from the direction most favor-
able to him on account of his known habit
of always looking down the direction from

After Bighorn 33

whence he expects his foes. In the mouth
_ of the game was found a bunch. of beautiful
flowers such as grow abundantly around
the snow-line about the size and_ color
of the clover. Presently on the sky-line the
form of the guide could be seen slowly picking
his way down through the crags and fissures.
As soon as he arrived the skinning process be-
gan and it was not long before the guide had
the head on his back and was on his way to
camp. The evening was fast advancing and
the wind whistling over the mountains as we
plodded our way back to camp; sometimes
climbing over the rocks so precipitous that we
had to help each other up and down the most
dangerous places, where a slip or a miss would
have ended disastrously. At one place we
came to a long snow-slide extending a half-mile
up and the same distance down, consequently
we were face to face with the question of going
straight over the snow-slide covered with a
hard crust at an angle of 45° or retracing our
steps for several miles. After debating the
question, we decided to cross the snow-pack.

The guide started in advance and with the
3

34 A Hunting Trip

stock of his gun punched footholds in the
snow. In this way step by step we crossed
over the slide a distance of some fifty yards to
terra-firma once more. With our trophy we
reached camp long after dark, and partaking
of a hearty supper of mountain mutton—and
there is no better eating—we went to bed,
tired and happy.

The following morning when the stars were
still shining the guide left camp in search of
the horses, while the cook prepared breakfast.
We broke camp and in due time the outfit
started with Tyhee well in advance select-
ing the best possible route among the broken
rocks and most difficult passes. Really it is
remarkable how the horses would climb up
and down some of the most dangerous places.
We pitched camp about the time the shades
were falling, in a beautiful valley surrounded
on three sides with snow-capped peaks, in an
atmosphere clear as crystal, with an azure sky
and the valley dotted here and there with sweet
flowers, all forming a picture of sublime
grandeur.

The method of making bread was unique.

After Bighorn 35

In the evening the cook began to make prep-
arations for baking on the following day. He
began by scattering the fire in every direction,
then dug a hole in the hot sand about a foot
deep, placed the burning wood in the hole, and
continued a good fire for the greater part of
the night. In the morning more of the hot
sand and live coals were dug out, the dough
kneaded, put in a large pan covered with a
similar pan, and inserted in the hole, the hot
coals heaped on it and left there for about an
hour. The bread thus made was very good.

The following morning the dawn had
scarcely cast its rays over the eastern hills
when we were away up above the clouds look-
ing for signs of game. We had left camp
several hours before, the fog then clinging like
a pall in the canyon so thick we could scarcely
see ten feet in advance, but when we arrived
at the summit the sun was just peeping over
the snow-clad peaks in the east, and made
one almost forget everything but nature in its
grandeur. The air was pure as the water that
floated over the crystal spring at the base of
the cliffs, and one felt as though a jump from

36 A Hunting Trip

crag to crag was a matter of small moment,
for the elasticity and endurance of the body
under these conditions are wonderful. With-
out seeing any signs of game we arrived at
the head of a large’canyon. Owing to an in-

Above the Clouds.

jury received by a fall, the author was obliged
to rest at the head of the canyon while the
guide went to the mouth expecting to hunt, and
if any game was started it would likely take
to the head of the canyon. In about a half-
hour after he had left, the sharp, clear report

After Bighorn : 37

of his rifle rang out in the stillness. Scarcely
had the echoes died out in the distance when
the nimrod was on his feet, forgetting all about
his injured knee and making all haste down
the mountain toward the scene of the excite-
ment. When i arrived, the guide, who could
scarcely speak English, by signs and guttural
expression informed me that he had seen five
or six goat and had wounded a large billy.
I was very much annoyed to think that in-
stead of returning for me he had taken a hand
in the sport himself, and for so doing I
promptly gave him a good lecture, whereupon
the expression of his face changed immedi-
ately and, uttering some guttural expression
about trailing wounded goat, he started down
the mountain, and that was the last I saw of
him that day. His action annoyed me very
much—to think that I had paid him to take all
the sport! From the actions of the guides it
seemed to me that they had been accustomed
to kill all the game and the mighty nimrod
paid the damage. I waited some three hours
and still no Indian put in an appearance.
We were ten miles from camp and _ it

38 A Hunting Trip

was getting late in the evening,:so I de-
cided that if I wished to reach camp
I must start alone, not knowing what had be-
come of my guide. In order to take a direct
route to camp, I had to cross a high mountain
and after about two hours’ steady travel
reached the summit. On arriving at the top I
discovered the snow had drifted over the cone,
so that a descent in safety down the other side
was impossible without making a long circuit-
ous trip around the summit. Finally, when
the first ledge was reached, I began to com-
pare notes as to which direction I should take
in order to reach camp before night. The
more I tried to make out familiar landmarks
the more confused I became. When ‘a person
once begins to get muddled as to location,
everything looks strange and unnatural. In
fact I was not sure of anything. In the mean-
time it began to snow and rain, making travel
very disagreeable. Finally I reached the con-
clusion that our camp was in the small valley
beyond the next crown of the hill. The nature
of the ground over which I had to pass was
very rough, it consisting of blocks of stone of

— -

After Bighorn 39

all shapes and sizes, as though they had been
broken off from the cliffs above and rolled
down the mountain-side on the bench, over
which I was obliged to travel. While going

on at a rapid pace I stepped on a rock and

at the same time it tilted and threw me heavily
to the ground, wrenching my injured knee seri-
ously. It then began to dawn upon me that
I was doomed to a night in the mountains
alone. After lying some ten or fifteen minu-
tes I got up with difficulty, as my knee pained
me considerably, started off with a hobble;
and as I advanced, it limbered up. Just about
this time I started a covey of ptarmigan; some
went off with a whirr and others hopped up on
a rock, at the same time uttering their crack-
ling noise.

Having had nothing to eat since dawn and
the prospect of a hot camp supper being uncer-
tain, I immediately saw my dinner through the
flakes of snow with its head bobbing backward
and forward. My first impulse was to shoot
the bird’s head off, but upon second thought,
what if I were to miss? I covered the bird’s
body instead, pulled, saw pieces of the bird

40 A Hunting Trip

flying in every direction, and gathering up the
remains carefully I wrapped them up in my
handkerchief, and felt better, for I knew I
had a scanty supper in my pocket. It was
snowing hard and the gloomy shades of night
prevented me from going very fast, but [
trudged along up the slope of the ridge where
I expected to see camp. Peeping over the top,,
you can imagine my disappointment when
everything looked stranger than ever. I then
said to myself, “ Well, I’m in for the night
alone with a camp-fire at my feet.” With
this chance in view I was looking around for
a suitable place to camp for the night. Wood
for a fire being scarce, I decided to cross the
next little divide, and as I reached the top and
looked into the valley, to my great surprise I
beheld the white canvas of our tents nestled
snugly in the little ravine on the western ex-
posure of camp. ‘To say I was pleased is put-
ting it mildly. Dinner was almost ready and
how I did enjoy the mutton, ptarmigan, etc.
The Indian guide did not return until long
after nightfall.

The last three days were simply beautiful—

After Bighorn 41

ful mountain stream. After turning
e horses loose, we started to fish for trout and
nD very short time had enough of the.speckled
es for dinner. The following day we
d at Lillooet, disrobed our hunting ap-
and donned our citizen garb; although
red by the sun and noses raw with
peeled off, we were in the pink of condi-
feeling as though the trip home would be
1g as compared with our experience just

e next day we boarded the B. C. stage for
oft. While going around one of the
curves in the road we had a very narrow
from what might have been a very seri-
cident. Being late the stage was going
very fast gait and just as we made a sharp
with the perpendicular rocks on our
and a canyon on our left, we saw another
2 just coming around the sharp curve
of us. The horses were pulled up,
e put on, when the two teams came to-

42 Hunting Trip after Bighorn

| 4 gether with a crash, Fortunately
ee was done, and after manceuver'
while, we managed to pass each

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CHAPTER II

HUNTING THE GRIZZLY

NE early spring, towards the first of
May, a canoe, loaded to within two
inches of her gunwale, glided down the smooth
reaches of the Columbia River, in the Province
of British Columbia. When rapids were en-
countered, occasionally the ripples of the cur-
rent sought a level by emptying themselves
into the body of the boat. ‘The canoe was only
sixteen feet long, and at several of the
“shoots,” its two occupants—the writer and
his guide, who served also as cook—were
obliged to turn out and portage the heavier
part of the freight, which consisted of a toler-
ably complete camping and hunting outfit.
After proceeding for about 20 miles from
our embarking point, we pitched camp for the
night at the mouth of a tributary of the great

river, called Brush River; and along about
43

44 Hunting the Grizzly

daybreak we started again, up the smaller
river towards several inland lakes. Passing
these, and leaving Brush River, we entered a
creek, following up its course, as it wound this
way and that, for several miles to its souree—

A Perfect Paradise.

a beautiful lake hemmed in with timber and a
background of snow-clad mountains, a perfect
paradise for birds, animals, and fish.

As soon as we entered the lake, we were
greeted—or rather “disgreeted” (to coin a
more appropriate word)—by the clatter of

Hunting the Grizzly 45

geese, and the quacking of great flocks of
ducks; and feeding among the geese in the
offing could be seen several white swan.
Canoeing softly up the lake, the scene filled
the beholder with a sense of its primitive

Nature’s Mirror,

beauty and grandeur. Several sandhill cranes
were startled from their solitary haunts by the
intrusion of the nimrods; and uttering their
peculiar croaking cry, they took to flight with
slow flapping of wings, their long legs extend-
ing horizontally backwards; thus they could

40 Hunting the Grizzly

be seen following in their aerial flight the
windings of the stream for several miles, until
they disappeared between the blue foothills
limning the mountain ranges. To steal upon
a crane unawares is a very difficult matter.
Their tippings for food are followed at short
intervals by a craning of the long neck for an-
other reconnoitre. Still pursuing our course,
we had our attention next attracted by a large
osprey appearing in the panorama of the sur-
roundings. Circling and soaring overhead, he
suddenly stops and instantly closes his huge
wings, making a straight shoot downward like
a meteor into the water, the spray flying in all
directions from his impact; he disappears for
an instant, reappears, and shakes the water
from himself; then, if unsuccessful, ascending
directly back into the air, begins to circle
round and round aloft again, for another
glimpse of a member of the finny tribe. This
was what happened, as we began to watch him.
Again in his gyrations stopping suddenly, he
began to flap his wings and stood almost sta-
tionary for possibly a minute, when he made
another dart and dived again straight into the -

Hunting the Grizzly 47

lake, but with no better success. For the third
time, he made his plunge, and, ascending from
the water, in his talons he clutched a fish; then
with greedy haste he flew away to a distant
tree-stump to devour his prey.

On the eastern shore of the lake, the moun-
tain sloped almost to the water’s edge, and
there had been a large snow-slide. Twisted
and broken trees were scattered in every di-
rection, having been torn from their roots by
the descending mass of snow from the moun-
tain-side. ‘Towards this clearing we kept our
eyes closely, examining every nook and crook
with field-glasses, in our search for our quarry,
the object of the present hunt—Bruin. The
young grass and shrubs were beginning to
sprout up in the slide, and Bruin is due to make
his first appearance after his long winter nap
in search of the young and tender shoots, of
which he is so fond. A student of nature may
see many very interesting things, while on a
trip of this: kind.

Our attention was next called to a flock of
small sandpipers, with their dingy brown
bodies, running on a sand-bar gathering tiny

48 Hunting the Grizzly

shellfish. I got out of the canoe for the pur-
‘pose of taking a snapshot of them, and started
to follow the little “ peeps,” seven in all, as they
ran hither and thither, wading with their little
greenish legs, seeming to dance in the rippling

Pryenerrere
be

Sandpipers.

water in their search of food. They were very
active, and when I made a slight noise with my
_ mouth, like a flash they would spring up from
the water about an inch or two, return as
quickly, and start to feed again. Finally they

:
wer
5 ss
ae
ay
Li
ul
i
t

Hunting the Grizzly 49

took to flight, calling “peep, peep” as they
disappeared to the other side of the lake; but
to my surprise they were back in a short time,
and alighted again within 50 feet of me. In
the meantime the sun became obscured behind
a cloud, and while waiting for the sunlight to

reappear for my camera, I was entertained
quite nonchalantly by the seven little sand-

peeps. By waving a red handkerchief, I was
permitted to come very close to them, they ap-
pearing to be confiding and sociable, and un-

suspecting of danger. Occasionally one would

scratch its head, or another would stand on
one foot or stick its head underneath its wing.
Altogether they seemed to enjoy my company
as much as I did theirs, and we were together
for more than an hour before I finally decided
to leave them.

The following day we hunted the snow-
slides in search of the quarry,. but signs were
few, so we decided to descend the Columbia
River some 10 or 15 miles below the confluence
of Brush River. We had made but a few
miles of this descent, when a six-mile portage

had to be made round some very swift rapids,
4

50 Hunting the Grizzly

The snow had not left the winding trail which
we had to follow, and it frequently happened
that, in the carrying of our pack, the guide
went down into a snow-bank up to his waist
before he could extricate himself.

On this portage we met an old hunter and
trapper on his way to set steel traps for bear.
On his back he carried a sack filled with cari-
bou meat which he intended as bait for the
‘traps. He was an old timer in his trade from
Wyoming, having been driven out of the
States by the stringent laws—and as he ex-
pressed it, “ By laws made by men who did

not know the difference between marten and —

martin; when the Wyoming law was passed,
prohibiting the trapping of marten, the leg-
islator who framed it thinking that the Act
as passed prohibited the trapping of birds.”
The following day the “ honk, honk, honk ”
of Canadian geese startled the camp from its
slumbers at break of day. A rubbing of eyes
followed and a peeping from the tent
' disclosed a flock of geese close to our Peter-
boro canoe, engaged in a careful examina-

tion with the evident intent of ascertaining —

:
Se ee a en ee ee oe ve ee

eee ee

‘MOU oY} UL UMO(T 1S

52 Hunting the Grizzly

what manner of thing it was; just in time
they spied the .380-30 being produced for ac-
tion, and before any damage could be at-
tempted, they were on the wing and out of
harm’s way. Quite a few geese I was told
could be killed by using a dog for a decoy.
The dog, trained to walk up and down the
shore for the purpose, attracts the geese, who
will come close up to him and hiss at him;
when they are shot by the concealed nimrod.
We had been packing for two days when we
reached the north end of the portage and
pitched camp. In spite of the distance of the
portage being but six miles, it was about the
hardest six-mile portage, considering the
amount of the outfit, for two to make that
could well be experienced; the most difficult of
the equipment to carry through the brush,
timber, and snow being the Peterboro: but
the irksomeness of the task was lightened by
mental and verbal anticipations of the sport
in waiting for us on the “happy hunting
ground ” beyond. Next, a journey of twenty
miles with the current, without any interesting
incident, brought us to a small island in the

Hunting the Grizzly 53

centre of a beautiful little lake, nestled between
snow-clad mountains, the snow-slides here and
there coursing their precipitous sides: towards
the water’s edge—offering an ideal region for
stalking the grizzly.

However, after hunting for a few days, we

Snow-Slides.

decided that there were very few bear out there
yet from hibernation, for signs were very
scarce. We discovered one set of solitary
tracks where one “ Old Ephraim” had been
wandering in search of food—the shallow

54 Hunting the Grizzly

depths of the imprints of his paws showing the
lightened condition of his body after his long
fast. The plantigrade tracks, one in front of
the other, followed the course of a little bab-
bling stream; and where this disappeared un-

Where Bruin Crossed the Pack.

der a snow-slide, old Bruin crossed the pack,
leaving the impression of his huge claws side-
ways as distinguished from his black brothers.

While out hunting we came upon an old
log shack in a densely timbered location; with
timber scattered in every direction, some de-

YOuyg 8, MOT[aFpoos ss

56 Hunting the Grizzly

cayed, some blown down by the wind, and some
cut down recently by the little beaver. When
we reached the log cabin, the door was open
and the only occupant was a large porcupine
which had taken possession. My guide told
me the following story:

“This was old trapper Goodfellow’s shack;
he spent five or six years here hunting and
trapping,—always coming in the fall and go-
ing out the following spring with his catch. —
One winter the old trapper took sick, managed
to reach the shack of another trapper a few
miles above here; but its occupant was out -
looking his line of traps and was gone for sev-
eral days. When he returned he found the old
man dead in his shack, and without any cere-
mony buried him at the foot of a large fir
tree.

I was anxious to see the old trapper’s lonely
grave, so we hunted in that direction. When
we arrived close to the place, we discovered
that a snow-slide had come down the mountain
with terrific force, bringing down with it
everything in its course; huge trees, rocks, and
tons of snow lying in a ruined heap at the

Hunting the Grizzly 57

base of the mountain. Among the ruins the
first thing we saw was the trapper’s cache,
sticking high above the snow of the slide, in
the forks of a tree, as he had built it. Ata
little distance we found the ruins of the shack,
which was built of huge logs; the snow had
forced the top from its proper place, and where
it stopped with its end wedged between two
trees, a vacant space was left underneath.
Into this we went out of curiosity, and found
there the trapper’s old gun hanging on two
‘pins on the log which had been its accustomed
place in the roof of the shack. Taking the
weapon down for examination, we found it to
be an old shot-gun with its hammers and works
so rusty as to unfit it for use. My guide re-
turned it to its place; then, in response to a
suggestion on my part that the trapper, its
owner, might be buried in the ruins of the
eabin, answered, “Oh, I think not,” and
walked away. ,
We pitched our camp in a position to com-
mand a good view of the region of the snow-
slides, where we kept up a systematic watch
for any appearance of bear. After some

58 Hunting the Grizzly

time, to our delight a black object could be
plainly seen moving across the track of the
main snow-slide. A scrutiny through the field-
glasses revealed a good-sized silver-tip slowly
crossing towards the cover bounding the slide.
There was a hurried preparation, and we
started for him in the canoe. The presence of
a sand-bar in the river compelled us to de-—
scend quite a distance before we could find a
‘proper landing place on the main shore.
Knowing the habit of bear to travel in a
horizontal line along a mountain-side, we ex-
pected to get a shot at Bruin as he crossed
another slide some distance along from that
in which he had first been observed. Conceal-
ing ourselves within good range, we watched
and waited for almost an hour, when the
shades of night began to gather, making it
difficult to see the sights if he should have
put in an appearance. As the gloom of the
forest increased, we approached closer and
closer, until old Bruin could be heard dis-
tinctly digging and tearing in search of a
choice morsel to satisfy his ravenous appetite.
Much to our sorrow, however, the desired shot —

Hunting the Grizzly 59

was not obtained; and we were obliged to re-
turn to camp in complete darkness. Arrived
at the water’s edge we decided after a consulta-
tion that it would be a difficult undertaking
to return by way of the sand-bar; accordingly
the guide lifted the canoe on his shoulder,
packed it over the bar, and after several un-
pleasant experiences over driftwood and
bushes, we finally reached the neighborhood of
our camp. As we approached, we were at-
tracted by a light coming from the direction of
the camp’s location, and being alarmed we
hastened along and found that the camp-fire
hastily left had spread considerably and would
have consumed our entire outfit if we had not
returned in the nick of time. Fighting fire
took but a short time, when things were pre-
pared for dinner; and after satisfying our
ready appetites with fried beaver-tail (a great
luxury with the Indians) and “ fiddle-top-
ferns,” the trappers’ spring-greens, we retired
early to dream of the silver-tip that we did not
get. The following evening we had watched
the slides for some time, but no quarry ap-
peared; and, getting tired, we decided to

60 Hunting the Grizzly

return to camp. When we reached a spot four
or five hundred yards from the slide where
we had been stationed, the guide chanced to
turn around, looked, and there was a bear just
crossing the slide. We immediately turned
back towards the clearing—nimrod bringing
up the rear. In order to get the best vantage
ground to stalk, it was necessary to cross a
small stream. As we reached its edge the
guide whispered, “Jump on my back,” at
the same time stooping; and with a jump I
landed on his back, and in he plunged, wading
across the water up to his waist. A stalk of
three or four hundred yards brought us to the
slide, but the game had crossed and entered
the timber safely. After watching for more
than an hour for nothing, we returned to camp.
The wind started to rise and by sundown was
almost a hurricane. Sometime in the night the
tent was tlown down on top of us as we were
asleep, and “all hands” were ordered out to
repair damages; and, whilst the rain descended
and the wind blew, the little tent was again
stretched and restored to its former stability.

The position of this camp was on a small

Hunting the Grizzly 61

island in Lake Kimbasket—really a widening
of the Columbia River to a breadth of a mile
or more. ‘The following day the wind blew
the surface of the lake into white-caps, so
large that we were practically prisoners on the

View from Camp,
island, our Peterboro being too small to ven-
ture across the lake to the mainland. After
blowing continuously for two nights and days
the wind finally quieted down, but a steady
rain then set in which continued drizzling for
the greater part of two more days, rendering

62 Hunting the Grizzly

camp-life wretched and miserable. Such con-
ditions usually make the mighty nimrod long
for fine weather and the companionship of
friends, especially when alone with a disagree-
able guide and with no alternative to kill time
but to read and reread the wrapper on the
baking-powder can, already emptied of its con-
tents. But the disagreeable features of camp-
life are soon forgotten, and we are scarcely —
_ home before we hear again the call of the wild
and are planning another trip to some fresh
locality, ready and willing to forego all the
pleasures and luxuries of home-life for even
the wind and rain of camp-life. Much of our
time about camp, as may be supposed, was
occupied in examining the various slides
through the field-glasses. Our second “ bear
stalk ” was after a black bear, which the guide
discovered feeding about half-way up the
mountain-side, a quick start being made to-
wards him following the discovery. To stalk
a black bear is a very difficult operation, owing
to the conditions of the localities frequented
by his species. We took the course of a snow-
slide for our ascent over logs, stones, and all

Hunting the Grizzly —-_- 63

kinds of debris; up, up we climbed, higher and
higher, puffing and blowing; now and again
slipping and sliding back, and using the toe
of the gun-stock after the manner of an al-
pinestock to assist in the ascent. When the
location of the quarry was reached, carefully

_ every rock and tree was examined—all fours
being resorted to in approaching the edge of

each little depression.

After examining thoroughly every possible
location in the hope of finding the quarry con-
cealed somewhere by the natural conditions, we
finally concluded that he had gotten the wind,
and had proceeded at once to make good his
escape from his foe. A systematic investiga-
tion disclosed his trail disappearing beyond the
snow depths of a little ravine, directly away
from the line of approach of his pursuers,
thus imparting to them a lesson that he, too,
is cunning and watchful. Disappointed and
discouraged, once more we started down the
mountain on the snow-slide, but the exhilarat-
ing experience of our descent soon filled us
with happiness and drove away the blues as
we slid down swiftly without exertion, one

64 Hunting the Grizzly

foot planted in front of the other, so swiftly
in fact that at times the slightest false inclina-
tion of the body would have resulted in a
“header.” |

In the return trip towards camp after this

5 ‘~ ae

Down the Snow-Slide,

fruitless stalk for Bruin, the wind blew the
water into large white-caps, and with an in-
experienced canoeman it would have been im-
possible to have effected a crossing. Under
the perfect control of the guide the little

Hunting the Grizzly 65

Peterboro danced over the water like a duck,
its bow cutting the combing breakers; but
even then occasionally the larger white-caps
would glide over the edge into the canoe, much
to the uneasiness of its occupants—and surely
in the hands of a less experienced canoeman
the result might have been disastrous. How-
ever, we reached our haven on the island in
safety after a protracted and tedious experi-
ence, and although somewhat drenched, we
were well pleased to be landed on terra-firma
again. Camp reached, “all hands” were
busy preparing supper for the hungry. In
the midst of the preparation a glance up the
river revealed the crossing of two caribou some
three hundred yards above. Six days without
fresh meat made an appetite keen for caribou
steak; consequently a rush was made for the
gun, and the 405 rang out. The leader
of the caribou, by this time almost ready to
swim, began, instead, to float with the current
towards camp; and before long we had caribou
steak galore, what we did not require for our
table making good bait on a slide to lure
some hungry wanderer in search of food

66 Hunting the Grizzly

into the opening, where we, lying in wait,
might obtain a good shot. |

By this time one third of the month of May
had passed, but bear were only beginning to
come out from hibernation. It seems they do
not leave their winter-quarters at any regular
period, even if the spring is advanced; but the
coming out is regulated by some unknown
conditions with which the wisest of the many
‘bear hunters and trappers of the lands fre-
~ quented by “ Old Ephriam ” are not familiar.
We were evidently too early for the hunt.

The return trip back to civilization was ex-
citing and interesting.

By means of poling and lining, many rapids
were ascended whilst at others too swift the
whole outfit had to be portaged. The largest
portage was through a dense forest of fir and
cedar, but every step was inspiring and thrill-
ing. In the dead stillness the old logeock
made the forest ring with the thud, thud of
his bill as he hammered away at an old dead
tree-top, his scarlet crest moving backward
and forward with lightning-like rapidity in
his quest for his morning meal. Filled with —

Poling the Rapids.

67

68 Hunting the Grizzly

admiration of the wooded scene, I walked
along slowly, when at an unexpected moment
I was startled by a crashing and breaking of
the underbrush; old Bruin was out taking his

morning hunt. Instantly I had the gun ready ~

po So ce ns

Lining the Rapids.

for action (a practice acquired from years of
experience with the whirr of the pheasant),
at the same time carefully stalking; but un-
fortunately the wily foe was too cunning to
let me get even a glimpse of him. Having
the advantage of the leeward side he kept

Hunting the Grizzly 69

there at a safe distance, moving slowly in ad-
vance of me for some time, evidently trying
to make out what had alarmed him. Then re-
ceiving the dreaded whiff in full measure, he

Sunset on the Columbia.

made a bolt and soon put distance between him
and his pursuer.

The end of the long portage reached, we
pitched camp just as the sun was setting in
a dip in the line of the mountains, towering
snow-clad in the air, the pathway of the sunset

70 Hunting the Grizzly

being visible over the darkening waters of the
Columbia, with the mist floating over the tree-
top line of the opposing mountain-sides in long
streams of white against the black background
where the shades of night were already thick
—making a scene of grandeur that cannot ever
be forgotten.

In hunting, above all things, in order to have
a pleasant time, the most important is a
pleasant companion. It seems to me, that if
there is a condition in life that gives one an
opportunity to know the yellow streak in the
other fellow, it is camp-life. You may be as-
sociated together in business, club-life, and
various other ways; but if you want to get
well acquainted with your friend take him
out camping.

Away from other companionship, where the
bedding is scant, camp-wood scarce, and water
a long way off, with the various other preval-
ent conditions of camp-life too numerous to
mention, and especially on a long hunting trip,
—it is then you will soon find out what kind of
stuff your friend is made of; and if he is anx-
ious and willing to do his duty good-naturedly

Hunting the Grizzly 71

without skulking or placing a gloom over
camp-life you can bet that in addition to being
probably “hail fellow well met” he is also
genuinely of the “right stuff.” A guide can
searcely be classed among the hunting com-
panions of a man’s choice, since, if the scene
of the yearly hunt varies with the advent of
one year upon another, usually there has been
little opportunity of prejudging the inherent
qualities of the guide hired for the particular
hunt. Still, as to guides in general, I may be
permitted to remark from my own experi-
ences that there are few who will not take
advantage of you in one way or another, or be
in other respects of meanness too annoying to
prove good companions; which seems unnat-
ural, considering that hunting, above any

‘

other sport, should develop what is “ sports-
manlike and game” inaman. _ In the present
case my guide’s principal occupation was de-
vising how to kill time and keep me in the
woods as Iong as possible at four dollars per
day. He had a vicious temper, and on several
occasions it behooved me to get out of his

way to avoid unpleasant consequences. When

72 Hunting the Grizzly

carrying in firewood on one occasion, he threw
a piece on his own foot, and while he made
the air blue with his profanity, with the ax
in his hand he made a vicious strike at the piece
of wood that caused his injury. The ax sim-
ply grazing it, the piece of wood flew around
in a circle, coming narrowly close to injuring
me; then he went to put the wood in the fire,
in the blindness of his conduct touching a pail
of boiling water. The next thing I knew he
had hit the pail with the stick, knocking it
many feet and its contents in all directions,
thus effectually putting back our meal. After
that he walked over to the pail, picked it up,
filled it with fresh water, and put it back on the
fire quietly enough. His temper had run its
course. His most constant occupation was
that of trapping beaver, marten, and other fur-
bearing animals during winter. In the fall he
would go into the bush with provisions and
stay in all winter, coming out in the spring
with his catch. It is writ that it is not good
for man to live alone; probably the penalty of
his solitariness was his morose, inconsiderate
temper; and out of the precarious returns and

Hunting the Grizzly 73

unexpected and frequent disappointments at-
tached to trapping as a calling he may have
borrowed some of the duplicity which had be-
come part of his nature.

The previous October whilst he was on his

Surprise Rapids.

jeurney of taking “in” his winter supplies, ip
shooting some rapids called Surprise Rapids,
his canoe was caught in the current, struck a
concealed rock, and overturned completely with
everything on board, causing the loss of his
stock of provisions. This was a very serious

74 Hunting the Grizzly

matter even to a son of old Neptune, such as he
was, familiar with the conditions of the woods
and waters. Whether he should try to recover
civilization, or continue to his winter cabin,
was the problem that confronted the sturdy
trapper; if he returned, his prospects of a
winter catch were doomed. After serious de-
liberation he decided to go on to his old shack
and begin his winter work with such very scant
quota of his original provisions as he was able
to fish up, and try his luck! His story inter-
ested me very much as he described how he
shot goat and caribou for his principal suste-
nance. The following March he sold his catch
for the sum of seven hundred and fifty dollars.
While camping on the big portage at this
part of our return trip, I was very much sur-
prised by having a visitor walk into the camp
with the salute, “Morning, Stranger.” In
answer thereto, I invited him to a seat on a
moss-covered log, which he immediately ac-
cepted. A typical scion of the forest, clothed
in rags, he stood for nothing else than the life
he led; his coat hung in shreds about. his. lank,
lean person, a pair of nippers dangling from

Hunting the Grizzly 75

his rawhide belt on one side, an ax on the
other, and over his shoulder his old carbine
slung with a piece of raw caribou-hide; and to
complete the description I must not forget his
moccasins of rawhide encasing his feet. Dur-
ing the conversation I learned that he was
a trapper for many years in the States of the
far Northwest; but the same stringent laws
which had driven out other trappers had also
caused him to “ shake ”’ the States in search of
better trapping ground, and he had wandered
into this district as a perfect stranger, and was
just returning from his line of traps that he
had set. The portage, though only six miles
long, being through dense woods, the guide
consumed two days in the task of packing our
outfit across. This gave me the opportunity
to see more of one of nature’s solitary inhabi-
tants than would otherwise have been the case.
As my information about trapping was very
meagre, I secured permission to accom-
pany the trapper in looking over his line of
traps for the following day. Meanwhile our
guest was invited to take a “snack” with us,
which he did without difficulty, remaining

76 Hunting the Grizzly

after supper until bedtime, when the guide in-
formed him that we were sorry we could not
give him a bed or bed-clothing. The trapper
answered cheerfully, “ This is good enough for
me—I will keep the fire up to keep warm”;
and our last vision of him for the night showed
him curled up before the blaze. In the morn-
ing he was up bright and early, had made the
fire, and when we discovered him was engaged
in thawing the ice from the pails, having al-
‘ready brought fresh water for breakfast.
While the guide was packing the “ duffle ”
across the big portage on the second day, I ac-
companied the trapper to his traps. First he
called my attention to a trap set for marten.
The method adopted by him was to cut a hole
in a hollow, standing tree, insert the end of a
pole three inches in diameter and fifteen feet
long into the hole, the pole being kept upright
by two small sticks arranged in the form of a
figure 4; and one of these small sticks had the
bait fastened on the farther end. When the
marten undertook to take the bait, the bait-
stick released the upright, and down came the
pole on the fur. The next trap was a beaver

Hunting the Grizzly 77

trap, set to decoy the game thus. First, be-
fore the trap was set signs of beaver must be
fresh. New brush you will notice cut and
peeled, fresh signs on the slide, web-footed
tracks in the clay and sand, freshly cut alder
sticks floating in the water about the slide—all
indicate to the experienced trapper that the
wary beaver has his home among the drift-
wood and fallen tree-tops of the neighboring
mountain stream. ‘The trapper selects a place
near the foot of the slide, the most suitable for
his purpose, to set his trap. As the old
beaver is very cunning the trapper pro-
ceeds to wade into the water at a point some
yards below the slide, digs out a small hole
in the bank about three or four inches belowthe
surface of the water, and there fixes his steel
trap, all previously set. Around the trap he
places a few small upright sticks, requiring
the beaver to go right over the pan of the
trap in order to reach the scent as arranged.
The scent is made by each trapper according
to his own fancy, and the nature of it is al-
ways guarded with great secrecy; this trapper
was very loathe to divulge the ingredients of

78 Hunting the Grizzly

his scent, but I managed to learn that he uses
the castors and oil of the beaver for the pur-
pose. Out of the water the old trapper drew
the beaver, caught by his front foot and
drowned by the stone of the trap holding him
under the water. After the beaver had been

Reflection through the Cottonwoods.

taken out, the trap was reset for another. The

value of the beaver to the trapper varied ac-
cording to size and condition, my companion
informing me that his catch during the winter
numbered twenty, averaging him eight dol-
lars apiece.

Hunting the Grizzly 79

When looking the traps along the stream
which marked the trapper’s present operations,
we took a canoe, paddling quietly over the
smooth surface of the water, which, in its wind-
ings between the cottonwood trees furnished
a series of beautiful reflections.

His Favorite Position.

Occasionally the trapper would call my at-
tention to signs of the wild, plain enough to
the son of the forest but unnoticed by one
inexperienced; expressing himself thus as we
paddled along, and almost as if half to him-

80 Hunting the Grizzly

self: ‘‘ Fresh beaver track ”’; “ mink after min-
nows.” In a short time I noticed he was ex-
amining carefully some tracks along the bank
which seemed to be following shore. Getting
out, he said, ‘Old she-bear and two cubs
passed here very fresh.” Thus we continued
for several miles in the most interesting and
fascinating way. “There is a beaver swim-
ming just around that bend”; presently a
‘smack resounded from the stroke of the broad
tail in the water as he disappeared under-
neath. ‘ Look at the porcupine in his favorite
position.” Those were some of the old man’s
remarks, as he paddled on with me in the
canoe beside him, until we reached a little lake.

Looking ahead intently fcr a few minutes
as we passed an angle of the lake he said, “I
believe I have a bear ’’; then as we approached
closer he said, “ Yes—the tog is gone.” In
order to reach the trap it was necessary to
wade through water and bog up to our knees,
whilst the mosquitoes hovered around us in
clouds. When we came to the place, we discoy-
ered the steel trap and tog were gone. Two or
three days previously, my trapper-guide went

-_

Hunting the Grizzly | 81

on to inform me, he had shot a caribou in the
bog and had used it for bait. He constructed
a three-quarter circle, or rather arc, of poles
driven into the ground, aftercovering well with
brush; and within the circle set his steel trap
attached to a log twenty feet long and about
six inches in diameter and covered carefully
with moss and leaves to conceal it; then the
caribou meat was placed back of the trap, but
in such a position that old Bruin must pass
over the trap in order to get the bait. When
the trapper reached his trap the first time, he
discovered an eagle in it and his meat all car-
ried away by a bear. He reset his trap, and
placed the eagle in it for bait; and when we

came along the eagle was still there, but the

trap was gone. The trapper started on the
trail of the “ tog,” through the brush, and into
the stream. The trail was plain; the earth was
turned up, brush peeled, and small trees were

gnawed off. Finally we spied old Bruin—in

the toils, fast to a good-sized tree, lying down
in about a foot of water. As we approached
nearer, he made some vain attempts to reach
us, and when we walked around him, would

82 Hunting the Grizzly

turn around with us, eyeing us cunningly
through his small mischievous eyes. Having
my 405 along I was requested by the trapper
to shoot him in the head. In accordance with
instructions, I fired a 405 soft-nose bullet into
the shaggy head a little below the eye and the
bear fell dead instantly; and after examina-
tion we discovered the frightful destruction of
the 405. His head was almost a jelly. When
I discovered how easy it might be for a would-
be bear-hunter to kill his trophies by pursuing
a similar course, I naturally asked myself the
question: “I wonder how many trophies are
obtained in this manner?”

CHAPTER III

A HUNTING TRIP AFTER CARIBOU

Sy the closing days of August the call of

the wild always comes to affect the even
tenor of my ways by an increasing happiness
in anticipation of the annual hunt and a
diminishing usefulness until the call is an-
swered. It begins with the short walk into
the country, where the chipmunk can be seen
scurrying along the old stake-and-rider fence,
occasionally stopping in the corner for con-
cealment while on its way to cover. When
finally it reaches its last stopping place it al-
ways takes a good look around, then darts
down into a burrow under some stone or old
decayed tree.

The little fellow typifies to the hunter his
first visitor in camp, prying into the affairs of
others, rustling over and under the tent seeking
to rob and destroy.

The whirr of the old cock-pheasant startles
83

84 A Hunting Trip

one from solitary musings as he makes a
plunge for the protection of the giant oak,
then a bee-line out of sight, leaving in his wake
a whirlwind filled with newly fallen leaves.
The red squirrels working like Trojans

Our First Visitor.

gathering their winter supply of nuts and
acorns, disturbed, run up a tree, perch on a
limb, and attract attention by their angry
stuttering. The leaves of the maple _ be-
ginning to turn scarlet; the deep purple leaves

After Caribou 85

of the gum, and the constant falling of the
acorns, all remind one that the hunting sea-
son is here. The guns must be cleaned, ar-
rangements must be made for the next hunt.
What shall I hunt? where shall I go? and like
questions come up. In fact, thoughts come
crowding in so fast upon me that I must has-
ten to select time, place, and companions for
the coming hunt.

About the first of September found me
ready for a hunt after caribou, moose, and
deer in New Brunswick. The trip through
the Thousand Islands, and down the St. Law-
rence, with the shooting of the rapids, was in-
teresting, but I was after bigger game. Ar-
riving at Quebec I lost no time in taking a
train at Levis for Campbelltown, my destina-
tion by rail.

At Quebec my trunk was to be examined,
but it was passed promptly; and right here let
me say a kind word about the universally
courteous treatment received by me in all my
trips into Canada, better treatment than I
have received on my return to my own country,
with but one exception—that from the cus-

86 - A Hunting Trip

tom-officer at Ashcroff, B. C., whose principal
thought seemed to be to give all the trouble
and annoyance he possibly could. About mid-
night I was in the hands of the genial and
pleasant proprietor of the Commercial Hotel
at Campbellton—Mr. Murray; who looked
after my wants carefully and did all in his
power to make things pleasant, and aided me
considerably in my arrangements for the trip.
I had taken “ pot luck ” about a guide and the
fates were with me, for I obtained a good man
to whom I will introduce you as the hunt pro-
gresses. A busy day followed, and the fol-
lowing day at noon found us ready for the
start, with provisions carefully — selected,
boxed, ete. The trip from Campbellton to
Metapedia was by wagon—a distance of thir-
teen miles. At this point our water journey
began, but before starting, considerable prep-
arations had to be made. We were not equip-
ped for the trip up the Restigouche River after
the fashion of the Rev. Henry Van Dyke in
his ‘“ horse-yacht ” as described in his Luattle
Rivers. Two canoes were lashed together with
ropes and poles, a tow-line was attached, about

‘a

After Caribou 87

100 feet long, and two horses with a rider
astride were used to do the lining. After all
the provisions, camping outfit, hunter, cook.

Up the Restigouche.

and guide—who served also as helmsman—
were aboard, we started up the Restigouche
for a 70-mile journey.

The trip up the river was interesting: the
horses at times swimming the deep places and

88 A Hunting Trip

again climbing over the rocks like goats; their
rider all the time displaying good judgment
in guiding his steeds so as to avoid the rapids
and shallow places; and his efforts to convey
us safely were ably supplemented by the skill
of the helmsman, who was also well versed in
the methods of ascending the river by the
easiest route.

The first day we made nearly sixteen miles
and camped about sundown at the foot of a
beautifully wooded slope, which gradually
ascended to the mountain in the background.
The lean-to was pitched in.a hurry; a hasty
supper followed, and the party were soon
wrapped in their blankets and in the land of ~
Nod. ,

.The following morning before the sun had
peeped over the hills the double canoes were
cutting the current, leaving in their wake two
long ripples angling toward the shore line with
a combination ripple in the centre. All day
long the horses tugged away at the tow-line as
mile after mile of the most beautiful country
was passed, with fine cottages owned by the
votaries of the rod who frequent these abodes

After Caribou 89

when the salmon are running. The entire
river is leased for its fishing, and guardians
paid by leaseholders patrol their districts with
great care to see that no poaching takes place
while you are in their several pools. At the
end of our water journey we pitched camp,
and while smoking after supper we had a visit
from the local guardian. We tried to bribe
him to let us cast for a single catch, but all our
oratory and moral or immoral suasion was of
no avail; for he was loyal to his holder, and
when asked to take a social drink, held up his
hands, turned his back, as much as to say
“Get thee behind me, Satan,” and told the fol-
lowing story: “ Last year a party of hunters
got John Smith, a guardian, drunk, and fished

99

all night; you can’t fool me.” The next morn-
ing the writer was surprised while looking for
fresh tracks on the river shore to find a valu-
able breastpin in the form of two hearts, half
imbedded in the silver sand among the pebbles
on the shore. Naturally the thought occurred,
how could a pin of this sort be lost in the home
of the moose? The owner of such a pin could

be none other than one of the fair sex, and

go A Hunting Trip

what could she have been doing in this wild
country? I finally concluded that she might
have been the sweetheart of some one, who
although a mighty hunter had lost the keep-
sake and failed to find it against his return.
Our objective point was a small stream
called Stillwater, some thirteen miles dis-
tant. In order to reach the hunting ground
a dense forest of hardwood had to be traversed,
along a trail frequented but once a year. The
guide, and the rest of the party as his assist-
ants, constructed an improvised sled to handle
the equipment; and when this had been packed
carefully the horses were attached, and the
merry party moved forward, with three of
them serving as axemen in the vanguard cut-
ting away the fallen trees, for the passage of
the outfit. Some seventy-five trees, large and.
small, had to be removed in order to get
through, but the larger and harder were in-
significant before the skilful hands of the
woodsmen, hewing straight to the line with the
chips flying in all directions. About dusk our
permanent camping ground was located, and
all were busy as beavers arranging for the

After Caribou gI

call of the inner man and quarters for the
night. The following morning at dawn the
nimrod and his guide sallied forth in the crisp
air, laden with the perfume of the sweet-
scented forest, in search of the noble game.

Our camp was pitched some three miles from
Stillwater, in order that the game should not be
disturbed in their haunts by the noise and
smoke of camp; for the least whiff of man or
civilization conveys to the quarry a feeling of
dread and a desire to lend distance to the loca-

tion. Approaching the stream carefully, and

while picking our way through the underbrush
which lines the margin of the water-bed, we
heard the “ splash-splash ” of water, conveying
the information of moose feeding on the lily-
pads. Very cautiously we crept through the
alder, making as little stir as possible. Pres-
ently we could quite plainly hear the splashing
in the water below us around a slight bend,
where the bushes, projecting into the water,
cut off our view. Advancing stealthily we
came in full view of a large cow moose and her
ealf. ‘The sun being directly in the mouth of
the kodak, a picture was out of the question.

Hunting Trip after Caribou 93

They gazed at us in wonderment for some
time, then walked off leisurely into the bush.

Redirecting our course we followed the bed
of an old beaver pond for some distance, to a
secluded spot where the guide had drawn his
birch-bark canoe into the bush the previous
year. After “putting her to rights” she
proved to be seaworthy; and as she glided over
the water after her long winter nap, I thought
of the many useful purposes of the birch, and
this “ bark ” seemed to welcome us to the land
of her growth, where she once clothed the giant
of her species as it towered majestically over
its smaller fellows. From a little tree the
birch grows up, and its tender boughs give life
and nourishment to the largest known member
of the deer tribe. It is bent downward by the
weight of the moose as he rides astride for the
purpose of browsing on the spring leaves, and
again the tree rights itself after the passing of
the moose. ‘The grouse gorges its craw with
the buds in the early spring and looks down at
the fox passing along harmlessly underneath.

In the midst of all it grows and grows until
one day along comes the nimrod, takes out his

94 A Hunting Trip

jack-knife, makes a long cut in the bark, peels
and forms a horn to lure the moose in the rut-
ting season. From furnishing the starting of
the campfire to its last usefulness, when its size
commends its bark for fashioning into a canoe
and this glides over the surface of the water,
it is truly the friend of the child of nature.

We continued our journey up-stream for
several miles—always on the alert for a
glimpse of caribou or moose, for signs were
plentiful. Several times we caught glimpses of
cow moose as they disappeared into the bush.
One old cow stood her ground looking at us
until we approached quite close, and remained
until a flock of ducks floating down-stream
were put to flight by our presence. Then she
made for cover in haste, with mane erect, ears
laid back, as though she disliked very much to
be disturbed in her haunts. Returning to
camp we found the teamster had left for his
home with the horses; and Archie, the cook,
had a supper ready worthy of his calling.
Tired, but with no vestige of hunger left un-
satisfied, we retired to our bed of balsam-fir
tips; and sweet was the sleep after a day of

i ad ,

After Caribou 95

rustling through the forest for big game. The
following morning, long before daylight, the
pots and pans were clattering in preparation
for the hasty breakfast, and about the time old
Sol was reflecting his dawning twilight
through the stately trees, three figures in sin-
gle file were making all haste to the beaver
meadow, filled with happy anticipation in view
of the plentiful signs of the previous day. In.
order that the ascent of the creek might be
made without noise, the cook and guide played
beaver and reconstructed the old dam and
backed the water up for more than a mile; thus
we were able to paddle the canoe over the
shoals quietly and without getting out. As-
cending the stream as tar as possible we stop-
ped at a likely place for game; and while sit-
ting on the bank we were beset with the black
flies hovering about us like a swarm. of
bees; but our exposed surface being anointed
with a mixture of tar, castor oil, and
pennyroyal in the ratio of three, two, and
one, they would come within lighting
distance, when away they would go around
and around in ever increasing and disturbing

96

‘poyieg soysng oy

:
:
=

sa

{ek Waguy

Hunting Trip after Caribou = 97

numbers. Occasionally the anointing bottle
was called upon to answer the growing call,
and renewed the protection for the tender-.
hides. In the midst of our experience with the
myriad of flies, the bushes parted on the op-
posite side of the creek, revealing a monster
cow moose in the act of taking in the situation.
In a short time she turned around, crest of stiff
hair erect, and returned into the swamps as
quietly as she appeared. I have often won-
dered how large game can travel through
dense woods and thickets so quietly, especially
large bull moose with their huge antlers. They
seem to be able to select the most suitable
places, throw their Roman noses high in the air,
antlers reclining backward over their back,
and just disappear into the distances.

~ Sabbath day we observed by visiting White
Brook Falls; and we were well paid by the
solitary grandeur of the falls with its pictur-
esque surroundings. The cold clear water
with its white-crested ripples came tumbling
down the rocks, gathering momentum for the
final jump over the falls down into the hole

at the base, there to seethe and boil over the
7

98 A Hunting Trip

rim to make a new start on its way to the
Patapedia River, a tributary of the Resti-
gouche. Thus we spent the day looking
through nature up to Nature’s God.

An early start was made the following morn-
ing, remembering the old adage, “ The early
bird gets the worm.” An hour at dawn is
worth more than two after sun-up; conse-
quently we made haste for the stream, and by
the time the night owl was hooting its farewell
call, before retiring for the day, the little
canoe, headed up-stream, was stealing along
briskly with never a sound to disturb the dead
stillness of the situation. Reaching the head
of navigation, we struck through the woods
for several miles.

In hunting through the timber every step of
the way is interesting. The startled chewink,
disturbed in its scratching for earth-worms and
larve, rises ten or twelve feet, lights upon a

“ce

limb, and utters its characteristic calls, “ to-
which, to-wee.” The old spruce partridge with
his feathers ruffled struts around in his self-
conceit, uttering sharp notes of alarm at our

approach. ‘Time and again our attention was

After Caribou 99

attracted by some new condition or object of
nature, as expectingly we hunted the timber
land. Like to the change when the cloud
passes from before the sun, causing a sudden
burst of sunshine, was our emerging from the
dense forest into a meadow created by the
toiling little beaver during the years before;
now all that remained of what was once an in-
dustrious settlement were the ruins of the old
dam, stumps of trees, and meadow grass. On
the moss-covered logs, soft as the down of the
eider, we sat for more than an hour watching
and waiting for caribou or moose. Being
doomed to disappointment we were obliged at
length to turn towards camp through a coun-
try full of signs of game. While returning in
the canoe with a strong head wind we ran
right into three or four caribou feeding along
the bank of the stream. The guide called my
attention to one of the caribou not more than
thirty feet away. When standing upright in
the boat I could just see the top of his back.
Both male and female have horns, conse-
quently it is quite difficult to distinguish the
difference in the sex. Taking aim I pulled

100 A Hunting Trip

the trigger; in the very act of doing so I
noticed a perceptible tilt of the canoe. Feel-
ing I had missed I jumped for shore; but just
as I put my feet on terra firma, in quite
another direction I saw a large bull travelling
swiftly with his swinging trot towards cover;
this, however, he never reached, for his doom
had been sealed otherwise, and his head adorns
the author’s den,—not a large trophy, but ad-
mired by many friends.

In the meantime we had forgotten about
the first caribou, and when finally we turned
our attention in that direction, I was sur-
prised, agreeably, to see her—for it was a cow
—trotting across the meadow at full speed with
a yearling beside her, making a rattling noise
by the striking of dew-claws. Considerable
time had elapsed since the report of the first
rifle-shot until I saw her again—impressing
upon me the truth of the accredited habit of
the caribou to tarry a little longer, thus giving
their enemies a second chance.

The greater part of our time was spent in
patrolling the water backward and forward on
the alert for game. Quite frequently the canoe

After Caribou 101

would glide along within thirty or forty yards
of caribou, moose, and deer; and invariably, if
the wind was favorable, they would let us get
even closer before taking to the woods. It is
quite evident they rely almost entirely upon
their sense of smell in taking alarm from ene-
mies. Early in the morning succeeding the
day of shooting the caribou, we started for the
hardwood timber after bull moose,—it being
evident that they were not travelling much; for
their ladies were all alone in their wanderings
along the stream. With antlers covered with
velvet and tender, the bulls prefer to select
some secluded spot to browse from the young
shoots and leaves, travelling as little as possible
until the velvet is rubbed partially from their
horns. It is about this time that their
thoughts begin to turn towards their lady-
loves. During the rut they scour the coun-
try, grunting as they go, ready and willing
to fight anything in their frenzied love. The
following story was told me by a friend and I
ean vouch for its authenticity.

I shall tell it in the Doctor’s own language
as nearly as possible: “ We had been hunting

A Caribou Trophy.

102

After Caribou 103

all day without any success, and were just
about to return to camp when the guide called
my attention to a large bull moose standing
within easy rifle-shot. After shooting I dis-
covered he was wounded, and followed his
trail quite a distance, by the blood. Being a
long way from camp, and night fast approach-
ing, we decided to give up the chase and return
the next day. When we started to return to
camp, being tired, I requested the Indian guide
to carry my gun. We were going along with-
out a thought for trouble, when suddenly the
bushes parted, and the bull made a charge.
The Indian shouted ‘Run!’ and I tell you,
if I ever ran in my life, I ran for that tree—
one fifteen or twenty yards ahead of me—and
just as I got there I looked around and saw
Mr. Bull scooping up the Indian on his antlers.
By dint of heroic efforts the Indian had
worked himself to a position between the ant-
lers, with one arm around each in such a way
that both the eyes of the moose were covered.
By this time the moose had reached a reclining
tree, from which the Indian braced himself
with his feet; at the same time shouting, ‘ Shoot

104 A Hunting Trip

him, Doctor! shoot him, Doctor!’ I advanced
cautiously from my tree and inquired as to
the whereabouts of my gun, when he informed
me he had dropped it where the moose first
struck him. I engineered my way towards it
as quickly as possible, and having got it, re-
turned to the scene, when the Indian told me
to shoot him (the bull) in the head; but I was
afraid of the ball glancing and killing the In-
dian. I took aim for the heart, and let go;
then the Indian said, ‘ Give him another in the
same place.’ I felt the quivers go through the
moose that time; whereupon I shot again, and
down he went. The Indian being slow to get
out of his perilous position, I requested him to
get, whereupon he answered, ‘ Not before he
is all dead.’ The Indian was not seriously
hurt; but his clothing was almost torn from his
body.”

It is always an interesting problem how and
where to pitch the tent. That day we selected
a treeless spot in the heart of the forest, as
though nature had designed it for just such
a purpose—a little circular sun spot at noon—
in the centre of which we erected the 10 by 12 ©

After Caribou 105

wall-tent; tall trees, chiefly birches and bal-
sams, surrounding the enclosure at a radius of
several rods’ distance from the tent. One by
one the many-colored leaves were dropping
from the trees, making a rustling noise in their
descent, and gradually covering the earth,
creating conditions very unfavorable for
stalking game. Towards evening the trees
began to sway backward and forward at their
tops, as the wind started to rise. As the wind
increased, clouds gathered, and all signs known
to backwoodsmen, from the circle around the
moon on the previous night to the croaking of
frogs, indicated a storm and rain. All night
long the wind whistled through the forest; and
as I lay on my balsam couch the trees creaked
and groaned, reminding us of the possibility
of one of them letting go at the roots and com-
ing crashing down upon us. Occasionally we
could hear a crashing noise in some one direc-
tion, then in another, caused by the forest trees
falling, cut by the invisible axe of old Jove.
Through it all we could hear the screeching
and scampering of wood-rats as they gam-
bolled over the tent as if at a game of hide-and-

106 A Hunting Trip

seek, till finally I entered the land of dreams
and slept until the guide called me in the morn-
ing—when he informed me that he had not
slept all night for fear of limbs or trees falling
on the tent! In the morning it began
to rain; and there followed little bursts of
sunshine, little showers of rain, all day long.
The greater part of the day was spent in
preparing the trophy—the caribou shot the
preceding day. A tub was made from birch
bark and filled with brine made from salt;
into this pickle the skin was placed for curing,
being left undisturbed for several days, after
which it was removed from the tub, stretched
on a frame of four sticks, and rubbed thor-
oughly with alum to preserve it against blow-
flies; at the same time, also, the skull was care-
fully cleaned of all meat—to render the whole
trophy ready for packing.

The day after the rain was very hot in the
sun, and the flies were thickest when the sun
was hottest. We waited until evening before
going down the stream: the morning and the
evening being the best times to be on the still
hunt for game. ‘Towards evening the guide,

After Caribou 107

Tom, said, “ Let us get down the stream; it
seems to me I heard the thump, thump of a
moose in the water below here.” So we all
got into the canoe, with Tom in the bow and
Archie in the stern. The water was calm—not
a ripple on the surface as the canoe glided
quietly down; and the silence of the scene
was complete, save at times for the noisy rattle
of a belted kingfisher, as he left his solitary
perch on some old dead limb, to make a dive
into the water, with a splash, for fish. Sud-
denly the quick, experienced ear of Tom de-
tected the “splash-splash” of something in
the water below, around a short turn in the
stream. Tom then beckoning Archie to go
quietly, they pushed the canoe to the bank,
when Tom and the nimrod slipped ashore,
where, after peering industriously through the
brush, Tom declared, “ Another cow moose.”
The moose took the alarm and started for the
woods, but just as it reached the shore Tom
discovered it was a young bull with his bell and
short horns. After he had gone some yards
Tom executed a call in imitation of a cow, and
the bull stopped suddenly at about 150 yards’

108 A Hunting Trip

distance, then quickly hastened to the woods.
We had travelled some four or five hundred
yards, finding our way quietly and stealthily
along, when Tom threw up his hand in the
usual sign of warning to keep us very quiet—
thus indicating his expectations of the pres-
ence of more game round the next bend. He
rounded the point as close to the shore-line as
possible, hastily shot the canoe into a little
cove beyond, as listening, we could hear the
“ splash-splash ” of some large animal round-
ing the next curve below. Still as mice we
waited, excitedly wondering what prize we
were about to draw. While keenly watching
to see what it was, Tom whispered, “ Get your
gun ready: it might be a bull moose.” At the
next minute round came the head of a cow
moose not more than thirty yards away. Af-
ter watching her a few minutes Tom gave a
moose call and she threw up her head, sniffed
the air, and started for the swamp, stopping
a minute on shore before disappearing in the
bush. We reached the end of our water jour-
ney about dark; from which point we had a
three miles’ walk to camp through a dense

After Caribou 109

forest of spruce and birch, so dark that our
return to camp would have been impossible if
the foresight of the guide had not provided for
this in the shape of torches made out of the
bark of the birch tree; and these threw a good
light about us as we tramped on through the
dense woods under the falling night. After
eating supper, consisting of broiled caribou,
boiled potatoes, etc., we all retired early.
The following morning was cloudy, with
every indication for rain, but after breakfast
as usual we started for Stillwater, reaching
there about 7 o'clock. Our canoe needed
mending, having the previous day sprung a
leak; but with a mixture of rosin and grease
boiled together the sides were soon made wa-
ter-tight again, and we glided smoothly over
the water, with the lookout at the helm. Ata
turn in the bank came the signal for silence
from the guide, indicating game ahead. All
hands became on the alert and full of expecta-
tions as to what the quarry might be. Should
perchance one of us exceed the minimum of
noise considered rightfully his portion, old
Tom, combined guide and helmsman, could be

i1O A Hunting Trip

seen looking back with an expression of disap-
proval on his face, and often would say in his
quaint Irish dialect, “ Ar-r-chie, not so much
noise with your paddle; we must get a bull
moose yet.” ‘Then would follow the remark
from him “Another cow,” and with this remark
all interest at once abated. Going a few hun-
dred yards further we sighted a deer in the
water; this being new game, new interest cen-
tred in the doe. She was in the water at more
than 100 yards’ distance from us; and it was
decided after a short discourse between the trio
that the nimrod should try a shot. After care-
fully adjusting the Eastman, click went the
shutter and off went the deer. After the
taking of her picture, the itookout was re-
placed in the bow of the canoe, and off we
went up-stream again in search of a bull
moose. We did not see any more game until
returning down water, when another cow
moose was seen feeding.

While waiting for an answer to a love-call
of the birch-bark horn Tom told the following
story: “Last fall I had old General H., a
retired officer of the English army, out here

ia

After Caribou III

for a hunt. The old General had come all the

way from England to kill a moose, and, as he

Another Cow.

said, had hunted in Africa, India, and Asia for
big game. One evening we were out calling

just at this point. You know, to be successful,

Sd

112 A Hunting Trip

a call every twenty minutes is about right.
Finally we got an answer, and the General in-
sisted upon me calling every few minutes. We
heard the bull answer several times in the dis-
tant valley, but in the meantime the General
was getting very impatient and restless, occa-
sionally standing up to get the kinks out of
his back. The bushes parted on the other side
of the water not more than 15 yards away and
out came the biggest set of antlers I had seen
for many a day. The General seemed to lose
his head and forgot he had a gun, for he stood
looking at the noble animal, until I said, ‘ Gen-
eral, aren’t you going to shoot?’ In answer
he said, ‘’T ain’t a very good shot.’ I then
placed the big end of the horn between my legs,
gave a grunt as though it came from the bow-
els of the earth: forthwith the bull made one
jump, landed in the middle of the stream look-
ing up and down, and although we were stand-
ing in full view with bushes to our middle,
he had not seen us. In the meantime the Gen-
eral stood as though paralyzed and made
no attempt to shoot. Presently I whis-
pered, ‘Shoot!’ He, turning partly around,

After Caribou 113

answered, ‘ Did you say, “ Shoot?” ’ Then on
his lifting the gun to his shoulder the muzzle
revolved in a circle. I reached up, took a
hold of his gun, and tried to steady the stock
for the shot. During the excitement the gun
went off, and much to my surprise down went
the moose; and after an examination we dis-
covered he was shot in the neck. As soon as
he fell the General dropped his gun, and into
the water he jumped, up to his middle. When
he reached the moose he began to pull at his
antlers, calling to me to pull his head out of the
water; stooping he kissed the Roman nose, ex-
claiming at the same time, ‘Oh, you are a
beauty! I came all the way from England for
you’ ; then he proceeded to climb onto the
moose’s back, and from that position made
the finest speech I ever heard.”

The party started for camp at the usual
time, reaching it about 7 o’clock. The next
morning the cook was up by break of day
and had breakfast ready for an early start for
the hunting grounds. Tom and the nimrod
started, and left the cook in camp to bake

bread. Our destination was reached without
8

114 A Hunting Trip

any game having been seen; but about half
way back on our return trip, Tom, standing
in the bow of the canoe, on reaching the
“ pint,” as he called it, whispered, “A big
bull.”” Our canoe was pushed ashore noise-
lessly, and we landed with Tom in the lead
and the hunter with his .380-30 ready for action,
bringing up the rear. Stealthily we picked
our way through the brush and old trees, Tom
whispering by times such advice as, “ Be care-
ful you don’t ‘ stamp’ on the twigs ” ; “ make
no noise, on your life.” In this fashion we
crawled and walked for about two hundred
yards, our feet at every step going into the
soft moss up to our ankles; when in a soft
whisper Tom said, “ There he is; let him have
it; be careful you put it into the right place.”
Looking over some alder right in front of me
I saw the monarch—reminding me of the
pachyderm of the prehistoric age—feeding at
the edge of the water about one hundred yards
away, standing broad-side. Bang! went the
gun, and you could hear the dull thud of the
leaden missile striking his side. He threw up
his magnificent head, and started directly

After Caribou — 115

across the water, making it splash in all di-
rections; in the meantime bang! went the gun
a second time, and there was another thud,
whilst he was still going across the water. At
this moment old Tom let a call out of him,
and this brought the bull to a full stop for a
brief second or two, when bang! went another
ball on its death-dealing mission, and again he
started in full flight. Then suddenly turning,

he came straight towards us; but by this time
the gun was empty, taking several seconds to
reload, which seemed an uncommonly long
time. As soon as the gun was loaded Tom
dropped his axe and made a grab for the gun,
began to pull the gun out of my hands. In
the excitement I persisted in shooting my gun
and retused to let go. In the meantime the
bull was getting dangerously close and made
the water fly in all directions as he made his
mad charge, until he reached within ten yards
of us, when he changed his mind. He now
headed again for shore, when bang! went the
gun again, but in the excitement a little wild
of the mark; the bull had reached a point
about ten yards from the water, when he made

116 A Hunting Trip

a headlong plunge into the brush, and the
guide said, “That ends him.” During the
excitement old ‘Tom was saying, “ Don’t get
excited, put them into the right place”; and
when he saw him fall he put up a wild hur-
rah, at the same time executing a species of
Irish jig, then walked up to me, and said,
“Well done, old boy! I knew you would bring
him; you are the best shot I have ever had out
with me.” I thought to myself, “I pity the
other fellows.” He extended, too, his large,
brawny hand, and the hand-shake he gave me‘
was warm and sincere, as he kept repeating,
“Good shot; good shot,” and when we
reached the water he lifted me off my feet and
carried me over to the other side, where we
danced round a ring in the mire almost to our
knees, chanting the death knell of the king
of the forest. In a short time Archie arrived
with the canoe, so the Nimrod pulled out of his
pocket a new ten-dollar bill, tore it in half,
giving half to the guide and half to the cook;
whereupon Archie mounted the moose’s body,
gave us a little dance, and delf®ered his
thanks, stuttering so horribly that it was dif- —

After Caribou 117

ficult to understand him. Archie Miles was
a character well worth mentioning. He was a
little hard of hearing and stuttered a great
deal in talking; and the first thing he said
when he came up was this, “ Wha-wha-wha-
what-what th-th-the h-h-h— wer-wer-were you
sh-sh-shooting at?” “A bull moose,” old
Tom informed him. “I-I-I kn-kne-knew it
it mu-mus-mus-must be bi-bi-big g-ga-gam-
game or th-the d-de-de-devil,’ was Archie’s
rejoinder.

The next thing in order was to skin the tro-
phy and dress it. After skinning we found
that four of the balls had entered the body
without ever passing through the oppo-
site side of the hide, it being very tough; three
of them had penetrated a little behind the
shoulder and through the lights, and any one
of them would have produced death in time.
After being dressed the trophy was then taken
to our temporary camp at the luncheon-
‘ground.

A brief description of Tom, the guide, might
not be out of place here. He was about fifty
years old, about six feet tall, with a powerful

118 A Hunting Trip

physique, but a little lame from rheumatism—
a typical hunter and trapper, having spent his
whole life in‘the woods, and at the time not
a handsome man by any means; he wore his
moccasins, knit coat, and slouch hat, a real
character of his calling, and his face, which
had not been shaved or washed for ten days,
was black from the oil used to drive away
the flies and mosquitoes. From the day
he left home to the time he returned he never
fired a shot from his gun—in fact it was al-.
ways left in the tent. When asked why he
did not carry his gun his reply was, “ Did not
come out to shoot; that is your business, to kill
the game.” His weapons of defence and in-
separable companions were his long knife and
axe, in the use of both of which he was very
skilful.

The moose was then hung on trees and
bags tied about it to keep the blow-flies from
spoiling it, and a fire placed under for the
same purpose, as the flies were very nu-
merous and persistent. After hunting till
dusk, Archie shouldered the mooseskin, Tom

After Caribou 119

the head, and the hunter the etceteras, and
away we went through the woods for our head-
quarters camp.

Sunday was a beautiful day, the sun shining
brightly through the trees, the moose-birds
flying hither and thither in large numbers eat-
ing the scraps of meat, soap, and any other
thing they could find, the red squirrels sport-
ing around the camp, very tame, and the many
warblers flitting around the tree-tops—alto-
_ gether an ideal day of rest for the hunter.

Monday morning all parties were up and
ready to start for the happy hunting-grounds
before five o’clock. The morning was bright,
the sun shining, and a slight breeze blowing,
the above conditions being very favorable for
stealing on the game for a snap-shot if sighted.
As the canoe was gliding quietly over the even
surface of the water the guide whispered:
“ There is a deer in the water ahead of us; let
us keep quiet and slip on to it while it is feed-
ing.” When we first saw it it was some three
hundred yards distant, and when we reached
one half of the distance the deer threw up its
head and we saw it was a large doe. She con-

120 A Hunting Trip

tinued to look at us until we were within fifty
yards of her, when with a snort she jumped
on to the bank, then walked not more than ten
yards away, where she stopped to look at us
while we passed her not more than twenty
yards away. She followed our course along
the bank for more than one hundred yards,
when she stopped to give a series of sniffs
and snorts, pawing the earth with her hoofs,
and the last we saw of her was her white tail
going through the brush. We continued our
journey up to the head of the dead-water,
where we landed and waited for an hour be-
fore returning down-stream. As we were
going carefully along, on reaching a point
about two hundred yards from a bend, we
sighted a large cow moose on the shore; and
it being the rutting season, the guide said,
“Keep perfectly quiet; there might be a bull
around with the cow.” He at the same time
pushed. our canoe toward shore, where the cow
having seen us had started for the forest.
Going on shore and stalking our way carefully
we were rewarded for our pains by seeing a
large bull some three hundred feet away; but

After Caribou 121

the wind blowing strongly from us toward
the moose made it very difficult for us to get
close to him; Tom expressed the opinion, “I
am afraid you will not get a snap shot this
time.” I was just getting ready to take his
picture when he threw up his head, pricked his
ears, and started toward us on a lope. We
waited so long as he continued to approach
us; why he advanced towards us we did not
understand—because he saw us and even took
his stand in the open—whether it was from his
curiosity to make out what we were, or his
spirit of fight in the rutting season. He
came within one hundred and fifty feet of
where we stood, stopped a few minutes, and
then started at a rapid gait for the timber
in the opposite direction. Just at this time
another big bull walked out of a little clump of
bushes into the water and started across the
stream in the direction opposite from the other
bull and in the same direction the cow had
taken. When he arrived in the middle of the
water, he stopped, looked at us, and shook his
massive head—not more than one hundred feet
from us; and a fine sight he was, with the

122 A Hunting Trip

velvet from his horns all torn and hanging in
shreds from the prongs and partly covering
his head. ‘The sun being in the wrong place
it was impossible to get a picture; so my at-
tention was directed towards the larger of the
bulls going through a bog, and I took a snap
shot at him when he was on the move, but he
apparently paid no attention to the shot,
merely looked back as he was going, and soon
disappeared in the bush. The shot of course
brought poor results.

The hunt was over; we had_ killed all
the game the law would allow. The guide
took a trip back to the temporary camp to
pack out a load of meat, while I stayed in
headquarters camp skinning the heads and
getting them in order for packing. After
properly caring for the trophies for shipment,
we retired for the night.

About 5 o’clock in the morning I was
awakened by a buzzing noise in the tent, and
to my surprise discovered a little wren had got
into the tent. It continued to fly backward
and forward trying to get out, but unable to
find an opening, until, as it was passing, 1

After Caribou 123

caught it with my hand and turned it loose.
The little inquisitive fellow was evidently at-
tracted by the warmth of the tent and had
passed a portion of the frosty morning under
its shelter.

* ~ ee et ee Nee tee ee

Ducks Skimming over the Water.

At 7 o’clock we were ready to start for
home, and getting under way reached the
Restigouche River in good time, where we had
noonday lunch.

Our trip down the river was interesting. By
this time the trees were clothed in all the colors

124 Hunting Trip after Caribou

of the rainbow; the evergreens intermingled
with the many-colored leaves of the hard-wood,
making a picture that baffles description. The
current being strong the boats glided swiftly
over the rapids, mile after mile through deep
gorges and around short turns, with always
interesting things to be seen by a student of
nature. The salmon would dart for cover as
the boat. passed along. Occasionally ducks
feeding along the shore would take wing, with
a quack, quack, skim over the water, and dis-
appear around a bend.

To adapt the language of Longfellow in
his description of the Rhine: there is hardly
a mile in the whole course of the Restigouche,
from its cradle in the highlands of New Bruns-
wick to its grave in the sands of Chaleur
Bay, which boasts not its peculiar charms.

CHAPTER IV
A HUNTING TRIP IN OLD MEXICO

ITH the thermometer below zero in
latitude 43° north, a start was made

for big game in the land of the greasers, and
as the “iron horse” covered the ground to-
ward the land of perpetual mild weather, the
trip was only the ordinary until the borders
of the foreign land were reached at El Paso.
A great deal of red tape was experienced be-
fore I got through the lines with baggage
and guns; but by perseverance and the assist-
ance of the general manager of the Sierra
Madre Railroad who happened to be an old
fellow-townsman and who did all in his power
to get my equipment past customs without
duty, furnishing the bond for guarantee of
the return of the firearms to “God’s own

country,’ the ordeal was finally overcome.
125

126 A Hunting Trip

With my passport I managed to avoid a great
deal of the inconvenience and annoyance that
most passengers are subjected to, in order to
pass the fifteen-mile neutral zone.

Twelve hours of a tedious ride over a coun-
try void of interest, and sparsely settled, ter-
minated at Casas Grandes, where a hack was
waiting to take passengers for Colonipecheo.
The ride in the stage was through a country
almost uninhabited, and on the way we had
quite an experience. The author and the
driver of the hack sat in the front seat of the
coach, the rear seat being occupied by an old
lady and her daughter going to a little Mor-
mon settlement. We were proceeding along
at a rapid gait, busily talking, when, without
warning, right in our ears to either side of the
vehicle, in the dark, still night we were startled
by the bang! bang! of guns—the reports
coupled with the flashes causing our horses to
bound madly along the lonely desert at a
break-neck speed, totally beyond control of
the driver. In the instant of their passing we
saw two horsemen travelling at full speed, one
to either side of us, and shooting at the same

In Old Mexico 127

time as they disappeared wildly ahead of us
into the darkness. Simultaneously, almost,
an expression from the rear seat caused us
to turn round, just in time to see the old lady
faint away. After giving her a good drink
of old Monongahela we had the satisfaction
of seeing her spirits speedily revive, and soon
everything was lovely again; and we all de-
cided that the incident was but a lark of two
tipsy Mexican cowboys.

Indeed, it was not long before the spirits
began to manifest themselves with musical ef-
fect, and the sweetness of the desert air was
disturbed by the old lady and her daughter
enchanting the company with a song entitled
°"T is my Bonny Blue-eyed Scotch Lassie Jean.
Song succeeded song, until sometime in the
wee hours of the morn we arrived at our point
of destination by the stage.

After a couple of hours’ needed rest, the
hunter was again on the road toward the happy
hunting ground selected by him for the trip—
from early dawn until midnight crossing two
ridges of the Sierra Madre in a two-horse
buggy, with nothing of great interest along

128 A Hunting Trip in Old Mexico

the route to break the monotony, except a
long dry spell without vestige of water. The
end of the day’s ride marked the end of
evilization also, and we put up for the night in
a comfortable country home, with two wives
and two sets of children living together, ap-
parently happy and contented, in true Mormon
fashion.

A day of rest for the nimrod, and of prep-
aration on the part of the guide hired for the
occasion, in getting ready for the trip, was
rendered interesting to the former in the con-
trast of a climate so vastly different from the
blizzard of the North, fascinating yet full of
invigoration for the successful enterprise of
the hunt after peccary and mountain lion.
When the preparations were about completed
for the start, we noticed a lone horseman wind-
ing his way down the mountain-side towards
the Mormon house; with his Mexican hat and
typical hunting costume, he rode into the yard
with all the air of a high local official, and ere
long his mission was made fully known to us
by his demanding the production of the hun-
ter’s permit to hunt in that district. His de-

‘aSIOFT OY} Surooyg 621

c
mer
»
Bux

130 A Hunting Trip

mand was flatly refused by the _ individ-
ual in question, although he claimed to be
the game warden of the district; and
that he was not entitled to either ask
or grant any permit of the kind afterwards
conclusively appeared by events. But this
gentleman was nothing but a smart Yankee
who had travelled South and had advertised
extensively for suckers who would bite at the
rate of four dollars a day for permission to
hunt over a vast tract of Mexican country
that this ingenious Yankee claimed to have
leased for hunting purposes,—which claim, as
we subsequently learned, was not true. Suf-
fice it to say, the big bluff and the Yankee-
Mexican game-warden went down to the
same common undoing. We were soon on
our way with pack and equipment in apple-pie
order for a two weeks’ trip in the mountains
after javilin, mountain lion, deer, ete. Our
first day’s travel was a steady climb—up and
up we went, a gradual ascent for hours, until,
before we reached the summit, it had become
apparent that it would be impossible for us to
reach water before nightfall, necessitating

In Old Mexico 131

our travelling the steep descent on the other
side after dark. After several hours’ winding
in and out around and over large rocks, trees,
and impediments of all kinds, we were relieved
to reach the little run which was our goal for
the night, without any serious mishap to man
or pack. While the guide hobbled the horses
and turned them loose, fire was started and
coffee boiled by the cook. Before long hot
coffee, meat, and potatoes were served; and
while eating we received unexpected company
from a ranch near by, of whose existence we
had no previous knowledge. But these Mexi-
cans from the ranch came strolling in by twos,
until camp became one whirl of excitement

with visitors. After satisfying their first cu-

riosity as to ourselves, our visitors began to
play a game called “sanpeet,” which was ex-
citing for its newness and interesting because
all hands were expected to join in. One of
the party would bury his face in his Mexican
hat, held in the arm of another, at the same
time stooping so that his body was at right
angles with his legs. The rest of the players
then forming a circle around the stooped form,

132 A Hunting Trip

one of the number with flat hand would strike
the unfortunate:one on the part most dis-
tended by this peculiar choice of position, with
all his skill and strength—when it was the
duty of the party struck to name the person

Br

By Twos,

who hit him; otherwise he was required to
guess again. The author entered the game
for the purpose of demonstrating that he was
a hail-fellow-well-met even among an un-
known quality. It became evident, however,
before the game proceeded very much far-

In Old Mexico 133

ther that there was a well-laid plot to get the
Yankee in the stooped position, and by dint of
treachery on the part of one of the Spanish-
speaking players, they soon succeeded in get-
ting an opportunity to bang the author. In
the excitement of the game, the author forgot
that he had a small flask of mescal in his pis-
tol-pocket, until this came in sudden contact
with the fiercely delivered blow of one of the
other players, bent on punishing the unfor-
tunate one too strongly—when, from a wring-
ing of the hand and expressions of pain due
to having smashed the bottle, there was no
trouble in choosing the player who had struck
the blow. After an explanation accepted by
the injured one, the game was again proceeded
in and continued for several hours, when the
visiting coterie disappeared homeward, after
an all-around shaking of hands. In a short
interval from the departure of the last of our
visitors, we had wrapped ourselves in the bed-
clothing, and with nothing between us and the
stars overhead we slept the delicious sleep that
follows exercise in the open, until the streaks
of dawn cast their rays over the eastern hills.

134 A Hunting Trip

It was not without considerable anxiety that
I pitched my bed: thus on the bare ground,
from fear of bad results in view of a severe
cold contracted on a previous hunt, and still .
hanging to me. For six long weeks I had
been coughing, until my physician had ordered
me southward to get rid of a bronchitis that
seemed proof against his skill and invocation
of drugs; hence my anxiety at any so heroic
treatment, but, as though by a miracle, the
cough and bronchitis left forthwith.

While the guide was getting the horses to-
gether for an early start the coffee-pot was
boiling over, filling the pure air with the
aroma so pleasant to the hungry camper.
Breakfast over, dishes washed in cold water
and scoured with sand, and the pack adjusted,
the pleasant voice of the guide rang out in
the keen, brisk atmosphere, ‘“ All aboard ”’;
then the pack horses were turned loose, and—
promptly started down the valley in a wrong
direction, to the rattle of pots and pans, keep-
ing a sort of jangling time with the clatter of
their hoofs, whilst the guide in hot pursuit
made the air blue with his objurgations until

In Old Mexico 135

he overtook them and headed them round in
the right direction. When the proper start
was accomplished, away we went up the val-
ley, travelling hour after hour until water had
almost disappeared from the creek, with only
here and there a water-hole marking its bed,
whilst darkness was fast approaching. “ Let’s
eamp here for the night—plenty of feed and
water for the horses ”; thus at length the guide
spoke, as he jumped from his horse and
started in to perform the necessary camp-work
for our comfort before retiring. So we
eamped there that night.

The next morning we started bright and
early for game, our appetites craving fresh
meat; for we had none of us tasted any for
a week. The camp was surrounded by tall
dry grass, and from fear of fire running a
plentiful supply of water was thrown on the
embers of our camp-fire to extinguish every
possible spark. For just at that time towards
the south the heavens were black with smoke
—suggesting to us that some careless person
had caused the destruction of a great deal of
valuable timber and days of hard work for

136 A Hunting Trip

many men, who must labor hard to gain
control of so fierce u forest fire, which indeed,
as we subsequently learned, raged over a vast
timber tract. With the .30-30 ready on the
hunter’s part for action, we plodded our way
up a hill, our senses keenly on the alert.
“There goes a deer,” said the guide. In-
stinctively the gun went up ready for action,
just as the game stopped,—a small doe, that
turned around and looked innocently towards
us and then cantered off up the hill, continu-
ing to glance back occasionally at us until lost
to view over the ridge. Arrived at the top
of the hill, and cautiously peeping over, we
saw seven or eight deer grazing in a little
draw, and picking out a buck, the nimrod
fired, but owing to a little rise intervening we
were unable to determine whether this deer
was hit or not, the distance being considerable.
Pumping another shell into the magazine, I
fired at another buck for they had not become
alarmed but were walking off leisurely up
another hill. As the second shot rang out
the buck fell, but immediately jumped up and
followed the others. It was evident he was

In Old Mexico 137

badly wounded, so we ran down to get another

shot before he should disappear. Approach-
ing the spot where we last saw him, and look-
ing in that direction, there standing at not
more than fifty yards’ distance we saw a large
buck staring at us in wonderment. 'The guide
said, “ There he stands; shoot him.” After
shooting and killing him, we discovered it was
not the wounded deer, but another which
evidently with his companions had not been
educated to fear the deadly modern rifle, indi-
cating that they had never been hunted before.
Returning upon the traces of the deer which
had been wounded, we found him also dead;
consequently we had plenty of fresh meat
for our larder. Although this was the only
big game killed on the trip, we did not lack
fresh meat throughout, the air being so dry
that by simply hanging the meat up it would
keep almost indefinitely, and what we did not
eat the guide packed to his home.

We had been informed that in what was
known as the “hole,” a deep canyon dividing
the States of Chihuahua and Sonora, game
was plentiful,—mountain lion, peccary, and

133 Hunting Trip in Old Mexico

bear; for that, owing to an impression that
had been circulated that some bad Indians
made their rendezvous there, and that there
were no trails into it, few if any ever de-
scended its sides. The following morning
early, after our successful deer-shoot, we were
standing on the rim overlooking the “hole,” —
fully determined upon taking our outfit down
into it for a week’s hunt. After examining
miles of the rim for a starting place, we at
length chose a spot which could hardly be called
inviting for such a venture, except by contrast
with all other parts; and, dismounting, we
made a bold start down the almost perpendicu-
lar side. Zigzagging backward and forward
between the rocks, leading and pulling upon
our animals by a long rope attached to their
halters, and fully expecting at times, as we ~
looked back at them almost vertically up the
rope, to see them come tumbling down on top
of us, we were frequently in doubt as to what
the end of the journey would be. Finally,
after hours of toil, weary and tired but hope-
ful throughout, we reached the bottom in
safety. For that night we turned the horses

Hobbling a Horse.

140 A Hunting Trip

loose with hobbles, feeling assured they would
not attempt to go homeward, especially as
there was plenty of feed and water. Follow-
ing a good supper and restful slumber for
ourselves, the next morning, after breakfast,
found us travelling down the valley—for we
had entered near its source, and our informa-
tion was that game was more plentiful in its
lower parts; so we were anxious to reach the
likely places at once. Tall, stately pines grew
upon either side of the beautiful stream flow-
ing along the floor of the valley, as it me-
andered its rippling way towards the Pacific.
Occasionally the call of jays resounded sharp
and clear in the still air, as they sported among
the pines; and several species of woodpecker
‘were observed as they flew from tree to tree,
and their busy, hammering thud could be
heard in all directions. Frequently the noise
of our advance startled the graceful white-
tails, while quenching their morning thirst;
and with a bound they would forsake the run
—occasionally looking back in evident won-
dering as to what strange beings we were and
what we were doing there, as they trotted off.

In Old Mexico 141

leisurely up the side of the canyon. Towards
the middle of the day the sun was well-nigh un-
bearable, its rays beating almost directly down
upon us with not a breath of air to temper the
fierce heat—the almost perpendicular walls of
the “hole”’ rendering conditions almost those
of an oven. We spent two days in hunting
the canyon, descending for a distance of fif-
teen miles, examining every nook and crook
for signs of lion and javilin; but not a single
trace of either did we find, although there
were plentiful signs of deer and quite a few
fresh signs of turkey. After trying for a
whole day to find a trail out of the “hole”
from the neighborhood to which we had de-
scended, without success, we decided to re-
trace the trail back to our point of entry—
thoroughly disgusted with the result of the
incursion. While hunting around the rim in
our exodus to the outside world again, we ac-
cidentally came upon a tent, occupied by a soli-
tary individual, eccentric and peculiar. His
little tent was pitched in the centre of a seven-
foot stake-and-rider fence; and as we ap-
proached, the occupant, an old man, greeted

142 A Hunting Trip

us warmly and invited us within the enclos-
ure, and in answer to the question “ Where ’s
your door?” remarked, “Over the top, or
squeeze between the rails.” The old man was
brewing tea from herbs, and cordially invited
us to take of the beverage, “ good” as he ex-
pressed it, “ for the stomach,” and of some dry
raw venison which he had chopped real fine.
After conversing a little while, we discovered
that he was an educated man and a graduate
of a Southern college; and in answer to the
question “ Aren’t you lonely here?” he re-
sponded cheerfully, “ You are the only persons
I have seen for six months, but it’s simply a
glorious life; and I want to spend the balance
of my days right here.” We then said, “ Why
don’t you get a little wife to share your en-
joyment?” At this his countenance dropped
and he looked steadily into the fire for several
minutes without saying a word, as though his
thoughts were wandering back to his younger
days. At length he drew a sigh as of relief,
and said, “No, never, never”; shaking his
head, and continuing his gaze into the fire
that brewed his tea of herbs. We then realized

=a lah

a:

Sa
oe

#
if

In Old Mexico 143

that there was a romance somewhere many
years before in the old man’s early life—else,
why should he be staying here in filth and
squalor alone, with, as his only symbol of hu-
man companionship, a human _ skull, that
adorned a stump at the entrance of his tent—
gazing at you disturbingly through its ghostly
orbits—till as I reached for it the old man cau-
tioned me to be careful and handle with care,
as he prized it very much, stating that he had
“found it right over yonder,” representing,
as he supposed, some poor fellow who had
wandered into the mountains and perished.
Being anxious to learn something of his life,
we persuaded him as he sat on a log eating his
raw venison and drinking his tea brewed from
herbs amid his grewsome associations (deer
horns, jaw-bones, and hoofs being thrown
promiscuously about his circular yard within
its stake-and-rider f nce) to tell us of himself.
And the grizzled; unkempt creature told the
following story: “ Well, many, many years
ago I lived in the Sunny South, and practised
medicine among the inhabitants of a small vil-
lage in southern Georgia. I was engaged to

144 A Hunting Trip

a beautiful girl and life’s future had much in
store for me. . When the war broke out, I
enlisted in the Southern army, was captured
and sent North, as a prisoner of war. In
due time I escaped into Canada; and after the
close of the war returned home to find that
things were not the same. No; I shall never
marry.” ‘Thus, and with this brief account,
we left the hermit in his happiness, and re-
turned ourselves towards civilization; be-
fore we parted, by request he posed for his
picture with all the pride of a blushing school
girl; but unfortunately the photograph was
not good.
The camera several times almost got us into
trouble. There seemed to be a well-seated
antipathy towards the kodak fiend, and from
what could be learned a superstition was pre-
valent among ‘the natives that to come under
its power foreboded bad luck. One day, in a
market-place, the writer with his kodak in
hand observed an old lady seated on a barrel
serving hot tamales, soup, etc., to three: Mex-
icans seated on a bench in front of her with

their large sombreros and blankets wrapped —

In Old Mexico 145

around them. The quartette presented an
interesting subject to commemorate, and the
kodak-artist stood gazing at them longing
for a snap and wondering whether they would
stand fire or not. While thus facing the
question doubtfully, the artist beheld a typical
American cow-puncher standing by his side.

The following dialogue ensued:

Artist. “ You speak English?”

Cowboy. “You bet.”

A. “I would like to take that picture.”

C,- * Take it.”’

The artist thereupon proceeded with his
kodak to snap the desired picture, when one
of the Mexicans, noticing the act, jumped up
and at once started toward the artist in a
threatening manner, talking Spanish as he
advanced. The cowboy stepped promptly
between, and following some words in Span-
ish both reached for their guns at the same
time; but the Yankee was too quick for
the copper-colored gentleman, securing the
drop, and in language more forcible than
elegant commanded, “ Hands up or out goes
your light.” Immediately followed hands-

10

146 A Hunting Trip

up on the part of the greaser, who then
skulked back to his unfinished lunch, while the
artist and the cowboy walked away together.
Some thirty miles west from the head of
the “hole” canyon, the headwaters of a beau-

Peculiar Formation of Sandstone.

tiful stream flowed through an interesting
valley, known throughout that part of the
country as Cave Valley, being rich in historic
remains of the ancient cave-dwellers. As we
rode down the valley, on either side of us
towered peculiar formations of sandstone,

In Old Mexico 147

showing the workings of earlier ages, where
the waters had swashed backwards and for-
wards and by constant erosion had formed the
rock into many fantastic shapes, putting one
in mind in places of the pillars of the Pan-
theon and the ruins of old castles. In the

Cave Valley Formation.

descent of this valley, many ducks were
started up, and winged their flight hastily to-
wards places out of the reach of the Parker.
Several teal, black duck, and mallards, how-
ever, were bagged despite their best efforts
to attain safety.

148 A Hunting Trip

Our destination in coming to this Cave Val-
ley was known as the Ewer Cave—a natural
cave requiring a climb of many feet up a per-
pendicular part of the valley to reach. The
cave received its name from a ewer standing
in its mouth, this ewer being constructed of .
layers of straw and mud, one upon the other
until it stood about eight feet in height, with a
diameter of six feet, its potbellied form slop-
ing bluntly towards the top and bottom. In
the top was a round hole for filling in the corn;
and several small holes in the side and a large
hole in the bottom allowed for getting out the
grain. In the bottom were several bushels of
small corn-cobs. There were about twenty
rooms in the cave, all parcelled off by straw
and mud partitions plastered over, and each
room had a level floor as though made of ce-
ment. In digging up the dry bottom of one
corner we unearthed some dry bones, one the
pelvis of a human being of about half the size
of an adult of modern generations; and scat-
tered around were old pieces of pottery and
small pieces of rope made from coarse grass.
The roof of the cave was black with the smoke -

In Old Mexico 149

of ages and patches of unintelligible hiero-
glyphics were scratched upon the wall-rock,
all indicating the habitation of an interest-
ing extinct race evidently dwelling among
the high rocks for the purpose of protecting
themselves from their enemies.

Aztec Cave and Ewer.

After visiting some twenty or thirty caves
of a similar character we turned back to our
homeward course, feeling: satisfied that we
were well paid for our extra sixty-mile ride in-
curred in going to see this curious district.

150 Hunting Trip in Old Mexico

Three days more of uninteresting travel
found the hunter of javilin and mountain
lion waiting, unsuccessful but well and happy,
for the iron horse to carry him back to the
land of the Stars and Stripes, which was
reached in due time.

CHAPTER V

A HUNT AFTER DEER IN OLD VIRGINIA

N a hunting trip to Virginia, in course of
passing through Washington, it was
suggested that we call on the President. The
evening preceding this hoped-for pleasure ar-
rangements were made with Senator P. to
introduce the mighty nimrods; and in pur-
suance of the arrangement we all met at the
White House on the appointed morning.
After some time spent in chatting in the wait-
_ing-room, Senator P. thought he might then
secure us the desired audience, and went for-
ward to find out. Our time was limited, the
‘train would leave in about twenty minutes,
and we began to fear we must leave without
paying our respects to the man after our own
heart. Consequently we were getting rest-
less, when one of the party advanced toward
the old Major who had charge of affairs in

151

152 A Hunt after Deer

the waiting-room, addressing him thus: “ Look
here, Major, we have above five minutes more

- before we must leave for our train. We wish

you would tell the President we are a party
of mighty hunters on our way south, and if
he wants to see us he must see us immedi-
ately.” Whereupon the Major left, and
in two seconds the door opened, and we were ~
ushered into the presence of our President.
The introduction by Senator P. followed,
and the conversation quickly drifted toward
hunting big game. In answer to a statement
made about killing moose, the President re-
marked that he had killed two bull moose; and _
then one of the visiting nimrods made the
facetious rejoinder that he had read about the
two big moose that the President had killed
weighing two tons apiece. Instantly the
President turned, waving his hand toward the
Senator, and with his characteristic smile, and
shaking his head, said, “Oh, no, Mr. S., my
friend the Senator had the honor of killing
those two moose.” With a hearty laugh we
proceeded toward the door, one of the party
remarking that our time was precious and we

In Old Virginia 153

must make our train. We were ushered out
by the President with the exclamation, “I
wish I were going with you, boys; I wish I
were going with you!” and we all felt the sin-
cerity and comradeship of the wish.
Hunting deer in Virginia with dogs where
swamps and underbrush predominate, stand-
_ ing on a crossing while the drive is being made,
with the rain and sleet pelting into your face,
is not the pleasantest experience. The “ toot,
toot ” of the old cow-horn can be heard a long
way off as it is returned from echoing hills, re-
verberating through the timber as the guide
encourages the hounds to make a start; then
you feel as the sound changes from one loca-
tion to another that your guide is not smoking
his pipe of peace in some old hollow tree with
his pack around him, or possibly taking his
little nap while the hunter is waiting in dilapi-
dated suspense at the crossing. Presently
while thus waiting anxiously to hear the
hounds give tongue, in the distance was heard
the sharp, short yelp of one of the young
hounds, indicating that he had struck a cold
trail. About this time old Dan, the veteran

Ready for the Drive,

154

ae ee

Deer Hunt in Old Virginia = 155

of the pack—hero of many successful hunts,
with ears torn and body scarred,—appeared
just beyond the deer crossing, tail erect al-
most at right angles with his black-and-tan
body. Coming to a sudden stop, he began to
sniff the ground and wag his tail slowly, in-
dicating that he too had struck a cold trail, and
then he commenced to circle round and round
for more positive evidence of the whereabouts
of the game. As the investigation proceeded,
his tail began to gather motion, getting to
going faster and faster—the motion of the
tail telling with plainer tale than language
that the scent was getting stronger and
stronger, and a start would be made in a very
short time. After circling many times, old
Dan threw his nose up in the air, opened his
jaws, and let a bay out of him that made the
woods ring. ‘The balance of the pack had ab-
solute confidence in old Dan’s education and
training, and with renewed interest began
running hither and thither in a vain endeavor
to disclose the hiding place of the game.
Every dog was on his own mettle to make the
start.

156 A Hunt after Deer

We knew from experience that old Dan
never betrayed our confidence and that the
quarry must be near, so our expectations were

at the greatest pitch in anticipation of the

sport. The dogs made music that thrilled with
emotion the energy and perseverance of the
hunters.

‘zi

Listening.

The deer had no doubt heard the melody of
the pack and instantly jumped from its bed
to its feet, as ever on the alert for its dreaded

foe and ready for the start, with ears pricked —

In Old Virginia 157

listening to the baying of the pack getting
closer and closer.

With instinct akin to thought it starts to
skulk from cover until it gets fairly started,
when it makes a bee-line for the crossing
where the nimrod waits in great excitement
for the approach. By this time the hounds

~~,

wets | ~
gf eg ee

Fi) Se
F

ar

a
.
4

Skulking from Cover.

have reached the spot where the game started,
and away they go in full chase, pell-mell with
the oldest in the lead.

The baying, yelping, and barking makes

158 A Hunt after Deer

sweet music to the ears of the hunters, but
causes the hunted to be filled with horror, as
fleeing for life he seeks:some swamp or water
to throw the hounds off the trail; but if over-
taken before reaching a place of safety,
promptly the noble stag turns to bay and de-
fies his pursuers. What a sight then—head
erect, nostrils expanded, front foot raised,
ready to strike a powerful blow with his sharp
hoof! In the meantime the dogs are circling
around, watching ‘an opportunity to close in
on the magnificent quarry; yet I have no
doubt the contest would be one-sided in favor
of the stag if it were not for the gun. The
excited barking and snarling of the dogs in-
forms the experienced hunter that the stag is
at bay and all hands make a bee-line over
rocks, trees, through water and swamps for
the scene of action when the contest comes to
its unequal close. No wonder many State
laws prohibit the running of deer with dogs.
At the crossing it requires a good shot to
end the chase; standing on a crossing for the
critical moment is very trying and one is apt
to get “buck fever.” On one occasion we

In Old Virginia 159

jumped a big buck and the dogs took it
straight to the crossing where one of our party,
who had never shot a deer, stood sentinel.
Presently we heard two shots ring out across
the ravine in quick succession—bang! bang! so
close together, we knew the trigger-puller had
a bad case of fever.

When we reached the stand, the tender-
foot gunner informed us he had wounded the
deer and the hounds would soon catch him.
“There, he crossed right there,” he explained.
“See, here is some of the blood.” But a su-
perficial examination proved this latter to be
red vegetable formation on oak leaves. After
an investigation we found the wads from his
gun and where he had actually stood when he
shot at the deer. Comparing conditions dis-
closed the fact that one charge of buckshot
went into the ground close to the gunner’s
feet, and that the other had entered a young
sapling not more then ten feet from where he
stood and about twenty feet from the ground.
Following with the eye the course taken by
this charge clearly indicated that, by the time
the buckshot reached the place where the deer

160 A. Hunt after Deer

crossed, the shot must have been twenty yards
above the deer; but no investigation could tell
how long after the game had crossed. When
we called the gunner’s attention to the known
facts of the investigation, his answer was:

“Well, he just flew across the opening,” and

_ ee law

On the Crossing.

his looks and actions indicated that he was
thoroughly disgusted with himself and all
other things, as he offered all sorts and condi-
tions of excuses.

The author can vouch for the truth more or

In Old Virginia 161

less in the expression “ flew across,” from a
similar experience the following day. While
standing at a crossing I heard old Dan give
tongue, and knew the trail was hot, and there
I stood fully expecting the game to put in an
appearance at any moment. Looking in the
direction from whence the baying came I saw
the deer advancing toward me; and not more
than thirty feet from me he stopped and looked
back to see if the dogs were coming. My
first impulse was to shoot, but after levelling
the gun I changed my desire and snapped with
my kodak. By this instant Dan was at his
heels and let a series of yelps, that caused Mr.
Deer to make two bounds and pass within ten
feet of me, and he was out of sight in a jiffy.
Just as he passed, I let go on the fly, but
never touched a hair, neither could I find
where a single grain of shot made a mark.
In line with the experience of every person
who has made a bad shot, there is only one of
two explanations plausible why I did not kill
that deer: either there was no shot in the shell
or the gun was not in the right place.

The dogs would take the deer on a jump

162 A Hunt after Deer

towards the swamps and when once in the
water they were perfectly safe. Is it instinct
or reason that guides the deer’s course thus?
On one occasion, while hunting in northern
Michigan, I had a very thrilling experience
with a large buck which for some reason or
other had taken to the water. We were
camped on a lake about five miles long and
half as wide, when something on the opposite
side of the lake attracted the attention of one
of the party. For some time we were trying to
make out what was going on. As near as we
could tell it was a man in a boat moving now
towards one shore, then towards the other. In
the meantime the apparition advancing to-
wards us, finally we could make out a man
standing up in a skiff, waving his hands now
and again. As we carried no field-glasses, it
was impossible to assign any reason for the
strange antics of the man in the boat. At
length one of the party shouted, “See the
buck in the water! ’’—when there was a stam-
pede for the guns and into our boat we
jumped, one to man the oars, another in the

bow with the Winchester, and the third in the |

In Old Virginia 163

stern with a Parker loaded with birdshot. By
this time the deer saw us and turned his course
towards the other shore, about a mile away.
Our boat fairly shot through the water as
the oarsman utilized every ounce of strength
at his command to overtake the quarry. As
the chase continued, the excitement in-
creased. ‘The man in the bow was shooting,
and at the same time shouting, “ Put it to her,
Bill, you ’re gaining.” The man in the stern
in a deep low voice also encouraged with words
and action as he sat bending his body now
forward, now backward, in unison with the
motive power, which, however, was fast ebbing
away. Finally, and before we were near the
deer, the middle man, addressing the man in
the stern, exclaimed, “I can’t pull any more;
you take the oars now.” There was a hasty
change of positions and the fresh man seized
the oars, and with his great skill and strength
the boat gained gradually until we were pos-
sibly within thirty yards of the buck, when
the new oarsman was about to drop the oars in
sheer exhaustion. The rifle being empty, the
man at the oars about to give up, the man with

164 A Hunt after Deer

the Parker shouted from the stern, “ Steer her
around; I ’ll tickle him with birdshot.” Suit-
ing the action to the word the Parker belched
forth again and again. ‘Thus ended the last
round of ammunition, as the deer made a bee-
line for the boat. ‘The oarsman, who under-
stood his business, prepared for the charge by
turning the boat bow first to meet the charge,
and the next moment the buck threw his two
front feet into the boat. Instantly the party in
the bow caught the stag by his horns, pushed
him off the boat, and held him at arm’s length
in the water; at the same time calling for
“ Bill’s ” jack-knife he proceeded to draw it
over the animal’s throat. Presently the deer
showed signs of giving up the fight, and was
soon hors de combat, when the hero with the
jackknife, beads of perspiration mantling his
noble brow, said, ‘‘ There! I have severed his
jugular vein”; but upon examination we dis-
covered the knife had not passed through
the skin; but the No. 8 birdshot had entered
the head, causing death. Had the deer struck
the side of the frail boat, it would have been a
very serious matter; the boat would surely have

In Old Virginia 165

capsized, and not one of the party would have
been able to swim to shore, clothed as we were,
and the boat could not have supported more
than one in the water. On this same Michigan
trip one of the party had another exciting ex-
perience by getting lost in the swamp. After
hunting the greater part of the day alone, it
suddenly dawned upon him that he was not
quite certain what direction to take for camp.
In order to get his bearings, he climbed to
the top of the largest tree, but, the country
being flat and swampy, he was unable to profit
by any observations taken from the tree-top;
and being more confused as to direction than
ever, started out aimlessly to find some famil-
iar landmark. When the day was drawing to
a close, he found himself in a great swamp on
the edge of a small stream. Feeling confident
that this stream must empty somewhere into
the lake, by whose side the camp was, he
started down along the bank, but this finally
became so thick with underbrush that it was
impossible for him to go any farther; so tak-
ing to the water, after swimming and wading
for more than a mile he arrived about dark

166 Deer Hunt in Old Virginia

at the lakeside-—almost exhausted. There,
shouting over the waters, he was fortunately
heard by us, for we had become very much
alarmed over his absence and were on the
lookout. I mention these incidents from the
Michigan trip because, whilst in the happen-
ing the scene of them was a long way off
from this Virginia hunt, they typify perils of
the chase which we found there also in the
swamps of old Virginia, although in less acute
degree.

CHAPTER VI

HUNTING BIG GAME WITH A TENDERFOOT

HERE is no difficulty in getting com-
panions for a hunt before the time
fixed to start; but when the time approaches,
one by one the mighty nimrods offer all sorts
and degrees of excuses as to why they can’t
go; and oh! how annoying to find yourself
without a companion after talking and think-
ing about your great hunt for months. But
to one thoroughly imbued with the spirit there
is no such thing as turning back, having once
again put his hand to the gun; and all alone
he goes into the wilds to try his luck again.
After several disappointments, the writer
packed his trunk for his annual hunt, and left
Pittsburg in September, bound for the haunts
of the moose in Canada. A few hours at Buf-
falo en route satisfied him with city life, which

was, perhaps, due to the fundamental simili-
1C7

168 Hunting Big Game

tude of most American cities, perhaps more to
the longing to get away from bricks and mor-
tar and the humdrum of humanity, into the
wild freedom of the chosen hunting grounds
in northwestern Quebec.

Within twenty-four hours after leaving
home the hunter had bid good-bye to his na-
tive land, and had arrived in King Edward’s
dominions as far as Toronto. That city was
in gala attire for the annual Industrial Ex-
position, and the hotels were crowded, so
much that five or six had to be visited before
a room could be secured for the night. No
wonder the desire became stronger to get
away where room and accommodation could
be secured without stint or scrip.

In the evening a crowded mob attended the
Exposition, where there was a grand display
of fireworks, the main feature being a spec-
tacular representation of the taking of Taku
fort, and how the Canucks howled and
cheered as the Johnnies charged the pigtails!
The writer could have shouted for joy when
the American flag appeared, till the joy be-
came clouded when he saw the English em-

With a Tenderfoot 169

blem planted on the ruins of the old fort in
front of Old Glory. Then he reflected that
after all it was only a fire show, and that if it
came to business, the result would be entirely
different.

Leaving Toronto next morning over the
Grand Trunk, the nimrod arrived at Muskoka
Wharf about 2 p.m., and took the boat up the
lake for Port Carling, for the purpose of pick-
ing up a companion, who will be known here-
after as the Tenderfoot.

The night was spent at Port Carling and
next morning we left for Muskoka Wharf,
going thence by the Grand Trunk to Graven-
hurst and North Bay, where we took the
Canadian Pacific for Mattawa, arriving there
at 11 p.m. and stopping over night at the
hotel.

The next day we took the train for Kip-
pewa, the terminus of a branch railroad
where passenger trains run but once in three
days each way. At Kippewa we put up at
the Kippewa House, a very rude affair chiefly
patronized by lumbermen and hunters in the
season, there being but two other houses in

170 Hunting Big Game

the place. Kippewa lies at the southern ex-
tremity of Lake Kippewa, one of a chain of
lakes stretching northward towards Hudson
Bay. Through this great expanse of terri-
tory there is scarcely a house or settlement,
except scattered Indians’ huts and lumber-
men’s camps. ‘That night we secured the ser-
vices of two Indian guides, whose names were
Frank, alias Jaw-bones, and Louis, for the
coming hunt.

The following morning we were up and out
early, going by canoe with our guides to look
at the bear-traps which they had set in the
swamps within a radius of twenty miles of
Kippewa. The Indians were not anxious for
our company on this business, and only the
persistence of the nimrod prevailed over their
rooted prejudices.

The two guides packed our outfit to the
lake, all four of us piled into the birch-bark
canoe, and away we started for the traps.
After shooting seme rapids, we threw in the
troll, and about the time it struck the water
we had a strike, but did not land; in about two
minutes we had another strike and landed a

es

With a Tenderfoot 171

three-pound pike. The line was handed to
Tenderfoot, with instructions, if he caught
anything, to be sure to hold on like grim
death, especially to the canoe, otherwise he
might be drawn into the lake. 'Tenderfoot
promised, and we proceeded steadily, the In-
~dians paddling almost mechanically. All at
once Tenderfoot yelled, “I’ve got him, a
fifty-pounder; blazes!” and in an instant he
was hanging to his line, himself hanging al-
most half-way out of the canoe. A few inches
more and he must have gone overboard. Then
unfortunately the troll, which was caught on
a boulder at the bottom weighing about a ton,
broke close to the swivel, and so we lost our
only troll in the turbulent and boisterous cur-
rent. It was no use admonishing 'Tender-
foot for holding on without paying out slack;
he had satisfied instructions in his own mind,
and all he said was, “ Well, was n’t I told to
hold on like grim death, and didn’t I, and
nearly went overboard?”

When we left the boat at the edge of the
swamps, to go on foot to look at the traps, it
was amusing to see Tenderfoot bringing up

172 Hunting Big Game

the rear, tumbling over the fallen trees and get-
ting pocketed in the brush, and shouting
“ Hullo, wait on me; don’t you see that I’m
not used to this kind of walking?” A steel
trap was used for bruin, and a little beyond,
fixed hanging to an old stump, was a string
of fish, so arranged that he must go over the
trap to get at the fish. This was the case with
several of the traps; another kind of bait was
used with the others, “ otter,” the Indians said,
and they were careful to inspect these alone.
But the nimrod managed to see one, and if
the bait was only otter, then the nimrod is a
bad judge of moose meat. This insight of the
nimrod proved afterwards to be a valuable
suspicion, when it came to the regular hunt
itself, as will in due course appear. Mean-
while we are only with the Indians, trapping
bear. ‘The Indians were not playing in luck
that morning, and after looking at three traps,
which had been. untouched, we decided on
lunch, which Louis, who generally acted as
cook, made for us from the supplies we had
taken with us. Here again Tenderfoot
showed his unfitness for the scene, by getting

With a Tenderfoot 173

his feet wet and upsetting himself and his
lunch from the rocks where he had perched
himself.

The spirit was growing in him, however,
and from having hooked that boulder he had
suddenly developed into an enthusiastic fisher-
man. Lunch was hardly over when he had

“cc

moved away by himself with a new line, “to
try his luck again,” as he said. We had for-
gotten him, in the arduous duties of breaking
up our temporary camp, when we were at-
tracted by his wild demeanor, as he made des-
perate efforts to recover his steel fishing rod
from the bottom. He was floundering in his
clothes in the lake; and finally, after diving ©
several times from view, he emerged with the
rod above the surface, the water dripping in
streams from his clothing. One of the In-
dians then went to his relief and set him
securely on the rocks.

We later left in the canoe to look at the
other traps, and the whole party fished, with
pieces of raw fish for bait, and we caught five
or six pike and pickerel. Here an unbecom-
ing incident happened, due doubtless to smok-

174 Hunting Big Game

ing too confidently from a big brier pipe, but

_ the nimrod fed the fishes. As the afternoon

wore on, the doleful cry of the loon came to
us—‘ who, who, huu, hee, who, huu, hee”—as

we paddled at some distance from him. We — ss
gave chase, but after continually diving he

Doleful Cry of the Loon.

was speedily lost from sight. Some distance

further, we heard the “ wah, wa-awa” of the

fish-hawk; and there he was, perched on his
nest, which was built on the very top of an old

rotten tree about one hundred feet high. We —
called the attention of Tenderfoot to the

With a Tenderfoot 175

fish-hawk, which had just left the nest; whereat
he said, after looking for some time, “ I don’t
see any peacock,—where is he?” Even the
Indians laughed, and the stern lines of their
swarthy countenances relaxed.

Fish-hawk’s Nest.

A crane next engaged our attention, as he
alighted on a tree ahead of us, but he saw us
approaching and did not wait. About this
spot we landed, and had scarcely gone fifty
yards when Louis pointed, muttering,

176 Hunting Big Game

“Took!” and two pine-partridges flew up to
a tree.

The nimrod immediately had his rifle to
his shoulder, and bang! one partridge fell,
shot through the neck; the other flew a few
yards to another tree, where another bang and
he fell dead also. :

We had several portages before we reached
trap No. 4. Tenderfoot here wanted to know
whether if a moose saw the fish and went to
eat them, he might n’t get into the trap in-
stead of a bear. One of the Indians made the
weighty rejoinder, “ Moose very hungry when
he eat fish.” The fifth trap completed our
round after bear; and we afterwards returned
homeward to Kippewa for the night.

We were up early the next morning, getting
ready to start for the regular part of the hunt.
Mr. O. Latour of Kippewa rented us a com-
plete camping outfit, consisting of tents,
blankets, cooking utensils, etc., and also a
birch-bark canoe, charging us for everything
the modest price of $1 per day. Mr. Latour
also keeps a store and packed our provisions,
ete., which we purchased from him.

By, a
ee Sa
4

.

With a Tenderfoot 177

Everything was in readiness for the start
by 11 o’clock; and our party of four, Tender-
foot and one Indian in the rented canoe,
headed up Lake Kippewa in a very hot sun,
too hot, in fact, to be comfortable. After
proceeding a few miles, we threw our trolls
in the water, and in a very short time had
caught five good-sized pike, all of which we
returned to the lake except one which the In-
dians kept to cook for our mid-day lunch.
This consisted of fish, potatoes, coffee, etc.,
cooked in the finest style—“ The best meal
since I left home,” pronounced Tenderfoot;
and his appetite was indeed something
extraordinary.

Lunch over, we pushed from shore again,
trolling the way as we paddled for a portage
a mile distant. The fish seemed very plenti-
ful and the nimrod alone caught five pike and
pickerel within the mile, all of them thrown
back into the water.

The portage was about a quarter of a mile
across, and an interesting sight was to see how
cleverly the Indians packed; and it was simply
amazing to see how much they each could

178 Hunting Big Game

carry with a “‘tump” line, which is placed
across the forehead, the load resting on the
back. While the guides were packing the
civilians rested. A little red squirrel ran up

With a Tump Line.

a tree close by, and as the Tenderfoot had
expressed a desire to kill something, the Par-
ker was handed to him. After some diffi-
culty, he managed to see the squirrel in the

With a Tenderfoot 179

tree, and prepared to shoot. This was the
first time he had ever shot a gun, and it was
amusing to see him hold it, with the stock laid
almost against his nose. The nimrod was
preparing to expostulate in a gathering qualm
of conscience; but it was too late: the Tender-
foot fired,—then oh, such a howl, and at the
same time he expressed himself thus: “ Oh,
my! Lord! it kicked like the devil. Oh, my
nose! It almost knocked me down. Why
did n’t you tell me?”

Presently he recovered from the shock, and
went in search of his game; but when he
found it, he said, pointing, “ Here it is; get
it for me, I don’t like the looks of it.” It was
with great difficulty he could be persuaded
to take hold of it, even by the tail. This being
the first thing he had ever shot in his life, he
wanted to have it mounted.

The portage was made in due time; and
after two hours’ paddling we landed and
made camp for the night. As soon as the
canoes were landed, 'Tenderfoot with one
of the Indians and the nimrod started for a
small lake, to see if we could get a shot at a

180 Hunting Big Game

moose. In order to reach the lake, we fol-
lowed an old portage road, and as we were
stealing along, there sat a large gray wolf
ahead of us. I suppose he heard us coming
through the swamp, and thinking it was a
deer had squatted ready to leap. We did not
get a shot, for he was off like a flash the instant
his mistake struck him. His foot-prints in
the mud were as large as those of a big dog.
We left Tenderfoot in the trail and struck
into the bush a short distance, and the Indian
called for moose. We then returned to the
place where Tenderfoot had been left, and
he was in great excitement. “ Did you hear
that terrible noise?”’ he asked. The Indian
grunted and a moose call was explained to
him by the Indian there and then uttering a
fierce and louder call.

Following the call, there was a crackling
of the bush, and the guide, pointing in the di-
rection of the sound, warned us to keep quiet.
At this juncture Tenderfoot whispered loudly
in the stillness, “ Lord! don’t run away and
leave me.” We did not see any moose, and
turned back for the camp through the dense

With a Tenderfoot 181

woods, Tenderfoot tripping over most of the
fallen logs and hidden stones.

Reaching camp, we found Louis, the other
guide, had supper ready, and we enjoyed a
hearty meal of pickerel, potatoes, and other
camp delicacies. The usual camp-fire smoke
and story-telling followed; and about bedtime
we were discussing plans for to-morrow’s din-
ner, when Tenderfoot turning to the nimrod
said, “ You must try and shoot some more
*possums,” meaning partridges. This was a
signal for retiring for the night. The Indians
silently got their blankets and threw them on
the ground, and were soon fast asleep. The
nimrod and the Tenderfoot adjusted satisfac-
torily the difference between an American
*possum and a Canadian pine-partridge; and
then went to sleep on the bed of balsam-fir
tips which the guides had prepared within the
tent. The odor was pleasing, and had a quiet
and soothing effect, and the nimrod slept
soundly the night through.

In the morning the Indians were astir about
daybreak. Tenderfoot got up complaining
that he had slept badly, from dreaming of

182 Hunting Big Game

moose and caribou and wolves in great quan-
tities all night. The previous day we had
seen plentiful fresh signs of moose—brush
broken off in many places, showing that the
bulls were rubbing the velvet from their ant-
lers and beginning to run. ‘The guide Frank
and the nimrod started for a little swamp,
covered with grass, hoping to get a shot at a
moose; Tenderfoot and the other guide going
meanwhile to the next lake to fish for salmon-
trout. After waiting for three or four hours
without seeing moose, although the fresh signs
were very plentiful, we returned to camp. On
the way back the nimrod trolled from the
canoe, and caught a fine salmon-trout.

On reaching camp the guide made a birch-
bark horn, with which to call moose; when he
had finished he thought he would try it, and
at the first call he got an answer from a bull
moose. ‘Then there was a race for the gun
and canoe and the guide succeeded in calling
him within one hundred yards, and we coula
hear the underbrush crack; but he must have
got a whiff of us, as the wind was not favor-
able, and this was the last we heard of him.

With a Tenderfoot 183

We then selected another pond to lie in wait
and call, although the rutting season was just .
beginning. We waited until dark before
we started for camp, and in the meantime
Tenderfoot and the other guide had come up
with us. 3

Just as we were going to leave together,
Tenderfoot went into the mire above his knees;
he had n’t been extricated when we heard the
whirr-whirr of ducks flying over our heads, and
they lit in the water some sixty yards off. We
could see several dark objects where they lit
and the nimrod started to go nearer, when they
rose with a whirr.

Bang! bang! went the Parker and we
thought we could see a dark object still lying
there in the water. But it was growing un-
comfortably dark, too dark to linger longer,
and away we went through the woods for
camp.

At short intervals, as we went, came the
lonely cry of the loon; the rest of nature
seemed to be asleep. We reached camp with
a tremendous hunger, which Louis the cook
was not long in satisfying with a supper of

184 Hunting Big Game

good things: trout, tomatoes, potatoes, hard-
tack, coffee—a huntsman’s meal.

The camp-fire was roaring about daybreak,
and in a short time the nimrod with Frank for
companion was heading for the swamp to try

aaa Sieuie. 4 ; = q ? SST eee

coe tT eh ue
eal aire
8 TAL

Tall Timber Island.

for moose again; arrived at the swamp, there,
sure enough, we found the duck shot the night
before. While Frank went for it in the
canoe, the nimrod, who had landed, heard a
splashing in the water, and, looking, saw

it

With a Tenderfoot 185

the flock of ducks alight. Presently was
heard their gentle “quack, quack,” over the
water; and I have no doubt they had missed
one of their number, and had returned to
search for and were calling her. Frank soon
returned in the canoe with the duck, which was
a large black one.

What a paradise was this grand morning !—
the sun rising in the east like a great ball of
flame, the fog ascending softly from the wa-
ter, the trees tall and slender and still, their
tops towering high over the dense under-
brush, the whirr of ducks moving to their
feeding ground, the mournful cry of the loon,
the red squirrel sporting over our heads, the
shrill call of the moose-bird, the kingfisher
quivering over the water, then darting with a
splash and up again and away to some distant
tree-top with his prey to eat it there; now the
flutter of the pine-partridge in the rear as he
picked the birch buds:—then out of the midst
of the scene broke the fierce bellow of the
guide as he called the bull moose and you
could hear the echo in the distant hills challeng-
ing like an angry answer to his call: with

186 Hunting Big Game

nerves strung to the highest tension in antici-
pation, straining the ear at every noise to hear
the welcome sound of the king of the forest—
such are some of the feelings and sights of in-
terest to you, as you sit in solitude in the home
of the moose.

Home of the Moose.

Returning to camp we found breakfast
ready; after the meal was over we thought it
best to give Tenderfoot some lessons in shoot-
ing. The first difficulty was to get him to

place the stock of the gun securely against his

With a Tenderfoot 187

shoulder, as he insisted on balancing it close
to his nose. After firing many shots at a bot- —
tle, containing coal oil, on the top of a stump,
he finally succeeded in smashing it at ten
paces. We were then with difficulty able to
keep him away from the gun, but you can’t
hunt moose near a rifle-range, and so we had
to cut short his sporting aspirations.

As we saw no moose, we broke camp, and
moved away to another lake. After paddling
for seven miles, the guides selected a place to
cut a portage about a mile across from one
lake to another; and while they were doing
so, Tenderfoot and the nimrod started for a
pond about a mile distant in the hope of see-
ing moose. On our reaching the pond a
large crane started from the shore within easy
shooting distance in front of us, but Tender-
foot had the firearms, so the shot was lost. As
we lay in wait a small duck came swimming
towards us and when within ten feet the nim-
rod took a snap-shot at him with a kodak.
Returning to the portage we found the guides
had commenced packing the outfit across the
portage to the other lake, called Lake George.

2 as Hunting Big Game

The nimrod made lunch, while they continued
the pack; and after eating we followed the
trail which the guides had made and blazed,
Tenderfoot and the nimrod toting the guns,
ammunition, and a goodly pack each besides.
All at once Tenderfoot discovered the blazing
on one of the trees and exclaimed: “ Oh, look,
where a bear has just been measuring his
height on this tree; it is just fresh.” The
guide had told him about “ bear trees,” where
the bear reaching up marks his stature by
scratching the highest point he can reach; the
Tenderfoot, in whose previous training “ blaz-
ing a trail” was as unknown a point as a
“bear tree”’ itself, had hastened to show his
ill-digested knowledge. We set him right,
and also rescued him once or twice from the
wildness of the bush and set him upon the trail
again. He was all but lost once till we finally
heard his frantic yells from the distance—
“ Billy, Billy, Indians! any of you! Where
are you? I’m here lost, can’t see bear tree.”

Tenderfoot and the nimrod reached George
Lake some time before the guides finished a
second trip with the pack. The second time

With a Tenderfoot 189

the Indians carried their canoes on their heads
as is their habit; but the Tenderfoot mistook
one of them coming thus along the trail for a
big yellow moose, and instantly turned to the

On the Portage.

nearest tree and began in haste to climb. The
Indian had by this time come up on him, and
hearing the scratching in the lower branches
asked in amazement, “ But what you do

190 Hunting Big Game

there?” 'Tenderfoot gazed down at him
blankly for some seconds, and then explained
in a voice still scared, “Oh, I thought you
were a moose.”

Packing everything into the canoes, we
started up George Lake. It was very wild;

A Tenderfoot up a Tree.

the beaver had been feeding, there being many
alder sticks peeled by them. The lake itself
was very narrow, not over four or five hun-
dred yards wide by about three miles long, and
both sides were covered with timber to the

With a Tenderfoot 1gI

water’s edge. Everything was deathly still,
with not even the sound of a bird; the only life
visible being the fish darting off out of the
way of the canoes. We trolled up the lake
for two miles, but did not get a bite. 'Tender-
foot was a little ahead in one canoe and the
nimrod pulled his line in the other. We did
not have the right kind of troll for trout.
Louis fixed camp about two thirds of the way
up the lake, and we had supper. After the
meal the guide made a fresh horn out of the
birch bark and started to call. It was not
long before he got an answer from across the
lake. Instructions were immediately given
to put out the fire, and while waiting in the
dark we could hear the bull moose on the
other side. Here ‘Tenderfoot whispered:
“For any sake, let that thing [the horn ] alone,
and don’t call it here.” The nimrod sug-
gested going over and Tenderfoot said:
“Yes, you two go. Louis and I will stay
here.” Frank and the nimrod started for the
canoe, pushed out, and away we went towards
the other shore, calling and calling, with no
further response.

192 Hunting Big Game

The moon began to peep over the tree-tops
of the distant hills; and what a fine moonlight
night it was on the lake, calm and quiet save
the “hoot-hoot ” of the owl and the calling
of the guide as it echoed and re-echoed in
those distant hills.

One has no conception of the vastness of
the magnificent unsettled country stretching
north of 47 degrees north latitude, before
he takes such a trip. We did not see a moose,
so we returned to camp and all retired for the
night; the civilians as usual in the tent, and the
two Indians outside with nothing over them
but the starry heaven.

At daybreak Frank stuck his head inside
the tent and said, “ Billy, Billy, I think I hear
something across the lake.’”’ In less time than
it takes to write, the nimrod was up and ready
to start, for he slept in his clothes, except
coat and shoes. Away we went to the other
shore, where we saw plentiful fresh signs of
moose, wolves, and deer. Presently the In-
dian said:

“ There, look; two deer over there on the other
shore.” Immediately the bow of the canoe

With a Tenderfoot 193

was put about for the side from which we had
come.

We had had no fresh meat since leaving
Kippewa, and the necessity for finding

>

“butcher shop,” a colloquial phrase meaning
to kill game, was growing strong with us.

After getting almost over, we could see two
deer, a buck and a doe, skirting the shore in the
water, feeding. They did not notice us be-
fore we reached within fifty yards, when the
buck threw up his head and looked. ‘Then the
guide said “ Shoot the buck”; the nimrod let
go with his .30-30 and the big stag made a
plunge over a log and died without a
struggle.

We pulled him down into the canoe and
while we were doing so the doe was in the
brush at a short distance snorting and pawing,
making a great racket. We returned in the
canoe with our quarry to camp, where we
found Tenderfoot and Louis asleep. As soon
as we told them we had found “ the butcher’s
shop” they were up like a flash. The guide
Frank hung the deer up and had dressed it in

a very short time. Upon examination we
13

194 Hunting Big Game

found the bullet had passed through the centre
of the heart and torn it into shreds.
Breakfast, consisting of bacon, liver, and
onions, was soon over; and Tenderfoot, Frank,
and the nimrod left for the woods in search
again of moose. We travelled four or five
hours without seeing anything larger than a
big owl, which the nimrod shot with his rifle.
After taking his picture and measurements,
forty-two inches from tip to tip, we turned
back towards camp; having travelled several
miles of the way on foot through a beautiful
hard-wood forest. On the way to camp we
disturbed a pine-partridge, which did not fly
far, for its kind up there seem to be very tame.
Dinner over at the camp, we all started for
a trip to another lake, which we christened for
ourselves, the Indians claiming it had no offi-
cial name. Portaging the canoe about a mile
from George Lake, where our camp was, we
came to this other lake, a lovely body of water,
clear as crystal. It took us two hours to pad-
dle round its shores. Portage was then made
back to Lake George. By this time the
shades of night were falling; Tenderfoot and

With a Tenderfoot 195

the cook, Louis, went to camp, and the other
two of us paddled down the lake calling
moose. :

It was soon very dark, and indeed we did
not get back to camp this night until long af-
ter midnight. As we moved along the guide
would call every twenty minutes or so.
Through the darkness ahead of us at intervals
we could hear the “ quack, quack ”’ of the wild
ducks roosting for the night on a little island
in the centre of the lake. When we reached
at one point within twenty yards, the alarm
was given, and such a quacking and flapping
of wings and splashing of water broke upon
the night air, as the ducks left the roost!

There must have been a hundred and more
of them. They gather to the roosting place
at night from all directions, and in the morn-
ing scatter to feed at every pond and swamp
within a radius of miles, returning again in
the evening.

The instinct of self-preservation from their
common enemies is strong, for they know if
they were to sleep in the ponds and swamps
they would be liable at any time to be pulled

196 Hunting Big Game

under ‘the water by otter, mink, or muskrat;
consequently they select an island of bare
rocks for their roosting place. Returned to
camp we soon retired for the night.

The guide stuck his head into our tent about
5 o'clock in the morning and said, “I hear
moose down lake.” That was enough; the
nimrod had on his shoes on short notice and
away we went in the direction of the sound.
In the distance we could see smoke coming
from the bush; on investigation we found the
“thunder ” (as the Indian said) had struck a
spruce tree, run around the tree down into the
moss and set fire to it, and had burned a great
deal of the underbrush. As usual we re-
turned to camp without seeing anything.

As we were eating, one of the Indians
called, ““ Look, the partridges!” There just
behind the tent were two looking at us, and
not more than five yards distant. We all got
stones and threw at them, Frank hitting one,
when both flew away. ‘The nimrod then or-
ganized for a still hunt, and in a short time
we were moving stealthily through the dense
woods of yellow and white birch, red and

With a Tenderfoot 197

white pine, spruce, hemlock, maple, and cedar
trees.

Along the way one of the Indians pointed
out an old rotten hollow tree where he had a
“fisher” trap set the previous winter, a
“fisher”? being of the weasel family. Com-
ing to a small pond we found fresh signs of
moose plentiful, so concealing ourselves we
waited very patiently for them to return.

On our way to camp Frank the guide told
us that he had had a falling out with. Louis, the
other Indian, about sharing the burdens of

-eamp life, and also that he, Louis, threatened

to inform on the nimrod for illegal! shooting,
whereupon the nimrod announced in very
plain language what Louis might expect if
he did not turn over a new leaf and do better,
and hinted of the bear-traps.

Returning to camp through the woods the
nimrod found the shovel of a moose horn
which had been shed. All moose lose their
antlers once a year, but, singularly, very few
are ever found; this may be due to the fact
that in time they become soft and porcupines
and other small animals eat them, the one

198 Hunting Big Game

found being very much eaten. At camp after
“snack” (dinner) all parties went fishing,
without any luck; and on the trip “Jaw-
bones” told us that Louis said he did not
mean what he said in threatening the nimrod.
“Me joke,” was Louis’s alleged excuse. The
nimrod explained for the common benefit in
good English that there was a time to joke
and a time when it was dangerous. ‘The
shake-up, however, resulted in Louis’s good.
Whereas he had been sullen, obstinate, and
lazy prior to this time, his whole demeanor
seemed to change.

Experience with his class has taught us that
we must rule with an iron hand through fear.
Kindness and leniency only add fuel to an in-
herent treachery and laziness. | We do not
mean to suspicion merit in Frank, if his merit
was genuine. We did consider, however,
the probabilities that the story of Louis’s
threat might be part of a blackmail scheme,
which failed because of the nimrod’s heartless-
ness in spoiling it in the rude manner seen.

Supper over, the entire party left in the
canoes for the island, just as the sun was

With a Tenderfoot 199

sinking behind the distant hills, our object
being a shot at the ducks as they returned to
their roosting places for the night. It was
fast growing dark as we reached the island,
and fixing the blind took a short time. All
were then counselled to silence while the guide
took his birch-bark horn and began to call
for moose. At once we heard the answer of
a bull in the distant hills, probably two miles
away, for the night was still. At short inter-
vals the guide would call and the bull answer
closer and closer. The guide and the nimrod
jumped into their canoe to go toward shore,
and how the moose did bellow as he came down
the hill toward the lake! He approached
within one hundred yards of the shore, and
such noise and racket as he made with his ant-
lers! but he would not come nearer. The guide
then coaxed and uttered the soft love-call of
the cow, but he would not move—only storm
and rage; then the guide roared, raged, and
challenged—what a combat in the still night!
It was evident the moose did not want a com-
bat with his antagonist, and he began to move
away into the dense forest as he snorted,

200 Hunting Big Game

pawed, and roared. The guide whispered,
“He’s off”; then again he fell to making
love to him in such a soft, winning way, the
moose could not resist, and we heard him
charging down the hill again straight towards
us, bellowing as he came. The guide contin-
ued to make love to him as he approached.
It was about a half-hour from the time we
first heard him until the bushes parted and
the monarch of the forest bounded into the
lake in front of us.

It was a sight to be remembered; although
it was quite dark we could see he was a large
bull, for his antlers could be seen gleaming in
their white width, as he appeared. We were
then within fifty yards of him and the guide
whispered, “ Give it to him!” Immediately the
.30-30 began to flash fire as fast as possible.
At the time the first shot was fired the bull
was facing towards us and it was a clean miss.
Then he turned sideways to go back into the
brush; when bang! bang! bang! three other
shots rang out, and he disappeared, whereupon
the’ Indian said, “ Ugh! no good; miss him ”;
and all seemed to be over. We heard him go-

With a Tenderfoot 201

a short distance through the brush, for he made
much noise; then all was still. Then the In-
dian changed his manner and said, “ Good,
good, him down; shoot good ”’; and we felt he
was ours.

pe

Monarch of the Forest.

Back to the island we went to get Tender-
foot and the other Indian; and returning to

202 Hunting Big Game

the place where the sounds of the moose
ceased we could hear nothing, so we concluded
he was dead. Lighting birch-bark torches,
to look for him, we searched some time but
could not locate him. Finally we heard the
bushes crack, which was not according to
programme, and we knew at once it was time
for us to: get out of there, as he might charge 7
us in the darkness. So we left him without
undue ceremony for the night, feeling we
should find him the next morning.

Tenderfoot had been very much excited
from the start, saying at the moose’s first ap-
proach, “ Did you hear him coming down that
hill, breaking logs?’ and when we were search-
ing for him shouted: “ Billy, I will not stay
here. You must come back here with the gun.
What would I do if he came?” It was pos-
sibly a very good thing he said so, for the
nimrod was going in a bee-line for the
wounded moose.

Reaching tent we built a large camp-fire,
talked and told stories for an hour and more
before we retired. Much was said about the
size of the moose’s head, shape of antlers,

With a Tenderfoot 203

ete., until we all retired most anxious to see
him.

Next morning we were up and on our way
before daybreak, in search of the quarry.
After searching for some time, the guide
Frank hallooed, “ There he goes ”-—and what a
sight as he ploughed through the underbrush
with his massive antlers thrown back on his
shoulders!—and forthwith the nimrod began
to shoot.

All at once the moose turned and charged
us. Then it was who could get away best—
Tenderfoot at breakneck speed well in ad-

_vance heading the rout. But if you had been

present you would have seen three others
briskly dodge for trees when the charge was
made. (As usual the gun was empty.) The
bull ‘stopped shortly, and another shot took
effect, when he charged again.

The nimrod had recovered from the race,
and began to shoot with care, when down went
the moose in a heap. It required some time
to get Tenderfoot encouraged back to the
spot; and when he came up and saw the
moose, he said: “I thought he was the devil

204 Hunting Big Game

after me; I have had enough moose
hunting.”

The bull proved to be a very good specimen,
measuring in height six and a half feet; the
spread of the antlers measuring fifty inches.

The trophy was soon removed, stowed away
in the birch-bark canoe, then a push and the

fe
e.

In the Morning Twilight.

canoe glided smoothly over the water in the
morning twilight toward camp, where the
head was skinned and cleaned ready for
packing.

We spent a quiet day at this task, boiling
water to pour over the skull, after which the
head was in shape to dry as it hung, receiving

With a Tenderfoot 205

the smoxe of the camp. A-strong wind blcw-
ing was very helpful to the same end.

We had supper of moose meat the day of
the killing; and we did justice to a dish so
rare. ‘The same evening we went abroad for
duck. At the island of their roost the blind
was fixed; presently as it grew dark a flock
of five or six came, alighting with a splash in
the water. The dark outlines could be seen,
and the nimrod fired twice—clean misses.

The Tenderfoot was inclined to make a
point of this, saying: “ Louis, we ’Il have those
ducks stewed, with gravy, for to-morrow’s din-
ner.” The nimrod had to fall back on one
_of Tenderfoot’s own earlier remarks to secure
peace: “ Billy, don’t go away and leave me
here. You’ve got the gun, if the moose
comes.”

When it came night, we had to put out the
camp-fire, the wind being so strong we had
fears of setting fire to the forest. The next
morning after breakfast every one was busy
preparing for the start home. The long port-
age was made by 11 o’clock.

Reaching Windy Lake we threw out the

206 Hunting Big Game

trolls as we were paddling down; and the
Tenderfoot caught a trout. The nimrod from
the other canoe unhooked it for him, and the
Tenderfoot resumed his trolling. The nim-
rod then managed, without observation, to at-
tach the same trout to Tenderfoot’s line; and
the latter, feeling something, hauled in his two
hundred yards of line. He was proud of his
success till the Indian in his canoe explained
the deceit; the nimrod and the other Indian
meanwhile withdrawing to a convenient dis-
tance in their canoe. The trout was fried
in cornmeal as part of luncheon; and the Ten-
derfoot declared it the finest fish he had ever
tasted.

We again trolled as the canoe moved over

the next lake, catching many pike and pick-
erel, and throwing them back in the water.
The camp-site selected that night was one
we had used coming up. ‘The Indians were
approaching near home and anxious to see
their squaws, and both left for their homes to
spend the night with their families. 'Tender-
foot regarded the situation with some dis-
may, as they were preparing to depart, and

“ae

6

With a Tenderfoot 207

inquired confidentially if there was any dan-
ger of wild animals attacking us that night.
The Indians having suggested “wolves and
bears,” Tenderfoot put in a night of great
mental trouble and distress, awaking the nim-
rod occasionally, as he fancied sounds in the
night air.

Four o’clock the next morning we heard the
Indians shout as they returned. They had
been cautioned not to return to camp in the
night without first calling. When breakfast
was over we arranged the trophies to pack the
whole in small space. After packing, we
started for across and down the lake. We
put in shore at one point, to hunt partridge
in the brush, but there appeared to be none,
and we resumed our canoes.

We landed about half a mile from Kippewa
to dry the head and dine; and when dinner was
over we reached the wharf in a short time
afterwards, and went to the hotel.

But as ill-luck would have it there was some
kind of a party going on at. the hotel that
night, consisting apparently of several lum-
bermen and the women help, and it was im-

208 Hunting Big Game

possible to get rest with the noise which was
especially bad on the stairs just outside the
nimrod’s room. Ten o’clock, 12 o’clock, came,
and still no sleep. The nimrod was lying
awake all this time and he began to grow un-
easy as the noise on the stairs continued. It
seemed as if the disturbers would never go.
At 1 o’clock the lights in the hall went out,
but the noise still continued; 2 o’clock, still
some one in the hall. Finally the nimrod lost
patience and opening the door hurriedly struck
a match, then there was the sound of a hurried
departure, and after that there was quiet.

The following day we bid good-bye to
Kippewa.

i RR ‘Ae Deeg

Fea

pee,

Sa

Sener

CHAPTER VII

HUNTING BIG GAME WITH A KODAK

HE middle of August found us on our
way into the interior of Canada sup-

plied with the necessary ammunition for kill-
ing anything from a bull moose to a grouse.
In previous hunting trips I had entered the
kingly dominion armed with a fifty-dollar
license and lead enough to sink an ordinary
canoe; but a change of heart had revolution-
ized my method of hunting, and I had come
firmly to believe that there is manifold more
pleasure in hunting with a kodak than with a
.80-30 repeater, because it requires more skill
and judgment to take the picture of game
than to kill, and the after-effect cannot be
compared for many reasons. Ambition is
satisfied with the killing, but to the true lover
of the wilds there is always a pang of sorrow.
The trophy, to be sure, brings back to one’s

14 209

210 Hunting Big Game

memory much pleasure mingled with the ex-
citement of the chase: the alluring of the bull
moose in the rutting season; the slashing of
antlers as he approaches his adversary; his sus-
picion that he is being falsely led into danger;
the breaking of limbs as he departs from his
covert foe; his return when the deception is
changed from a challenge to the soft low call
as though his lady-love were imploring him to
come back, until when, in the stillness of dusk,
the guide lifts the birch-bark horn full of
water and pours, the noble lord of the forest
is only more deceived and off his guard, and,
answering his lady-love in his wooing voice,
says: “I am coming. I will be with you
now.” Behold! the bushes part, and there he
stands, looking up and down; noble animal,
full of life, love, and happiness, snorting and
pawing the water with his powerful front
feet; and from his having just rubbed the
velvet from his huge antlers, the corpuscles
make them look red in the twilight. The de-
ception and fraud perpetrated is perfect.
What then? Bang! bang! and the noble fel-
low has answered his last love-call.

Pe ey ee aN eee a en ae eT eh eae Te Ge SW eRp Te eee ee, wee,
oS - = * , cs bie v rs

With a Kodak 211

You take the head as a trophy for your den,
and the thousand pounds of flesh is left where
it fell, to be devoured by other wild beasts.

Now let us look at the other side,—and I
am speaking from experience: isn’t there a
sadness comes to you? Doesn’t your con-
science smite you just a little after the ex-
citement has passed away? If not, you and
I are differently constituted. But as_ the
best argument, let us take you with us on a
kodak hunting-trip for big game. It is
far more fascinating, requiring, as suggested,
more skill and judgment, and contains the ele-
ment of danger to a greater extent than in
hunting to kill.

After canoeing several days among beauti-
ful lakes, fringed to the water’s edge with
pine, spruce, and hemlock, we pitched tent on
the shore of a magnificent body of water, of
the width of about a mile and double its own
width in length. The hills surrounding the
lake gently sloping to the edge, and the old
moss-covered logs extending into the water,
at times, especially when calm, made a com-
plete reflection, so continuous the keenest

Z1Z
‘uOMOOPey JOojl0g VW

Hunting with a Kodak 213

vision could scarce distinguish where the real
ended, and the reflection began.

After the usual routine of making camp
and a hearty supper, and after the pipe of
peace had been passed around, the mighty
nimrods discussed the elements,—the moon,
the wind and stars—and as the first was dis-
appearing behind the western hills sallied
forth in search of big game armed to the teeth
with an Eastman repeater and flash-light pow-
der to burn. Silently, slowly, and stealthily,
we moved along the margin of the lake with
“ Jack ” in the bow, searching every nook and
corner for a sight of the quarry.

Were you ever alone at night in the castle
of the woods, among the strange and fantas-
tic shapes which the trees make of themselves
in the dark? Have you had that mysterious,
uncanny feeling, and had the keen tension of
every nerve break at some unusual noise? On
the lake in a canoe, you approach this castle
from the outside, the trees outlining its tall
towers and battlements against the sky; your
eyes follow the searchlight to the blank wall;
you expect everything, and are alarmed at

214 Hunting Big Game

anything. Now a bush is a heron or a crane
taking his nap; a pike or pickerel in search of
food, like a flash, darts from the shallow to
deeper water; a bat whirls gracefully into and
out of the rays of light; and the doleful call
of the loon, answered by its mate, warns every
living thing that strange visitors are come.
Splash! ’T was only a muskrat charmed with
the light and then making a hasty retreat, but
Tenderfoot almost upset the canoe as the
remnant of his shattered nerves incontinently
left him.

Stealing thus along the shore, with the ko-
dak arranged in the bow of the boat ready for
immediate action, the flash-pan fixed a little
above and to the right of the aperture, and the
“ jack” in hand throwing its rays far in ad-
vance, we are startled. “There ’tis! there
tis! deer! deer!”’ whispers the guide.

Presently in front of us could be heard a
sound of dripping water which to the exper-
ienced ear told plainly that the quarry was
feeding among the lily-pads. The guide con-
tinued to push the canoe through the grass, and
as this rubbed along the side of the boat it

With a Kodak 215

grated harshly on the nerves of the excited, for
by this time we were fully prepared to see the
object of our search. Lo! just in front of
us could be seen four shining objects like balls
of fire signalling us towards them. Nearer
and nearer we came, and the old stag could be
seen pawing the water with his front feet,
whistling and snorting defiance to the mys-
terious object that has dared to invade his
feeding ground. Beside him stood the grace-
ful doe, sniffing the air,—erect, dazed, and as
if transfixed to the spot, without a motion or
quiver, looking straight at the light.

The critical moment has come, and with
the bow of the boat pointed straight for
the quarry, so as to bring it within the
field of vision, the deer poses for his pic-
ture, as the flash lights up the scene—hur-
riedly deciding him then, as he takes to the
woods for safety. The keenest anxiety now
prevails in anticipation of what the film will
reveal, and if a good picture is obtained what
a joy and pride is there! and the interest
becomes more eager as the instrument is re-
loaded for another snap-shot,—for there is no

216 Hunting Big Game

limit to the numbers that may be shot, and in
all seasons, quite in contrast to the order of
things in hunting to kill.

On the following night, we took another
direction and made several portages into a
small lake in quest of more pictures. My
companion this evening was the wife of one
of the party and a perfect tenderfoot in the
woods, but full of courage and determination.
The following dialogue took place between the
lady and her husband before the start:

Wife. “I am going out to-night.”

Husband. “Well, dear, it may be 12
o'clock before Mr. T. gets back to camp.”

Wife. ‘I don’t care if it is 3 o'clock, I am
going.”

Husband. “ My dear, the canoe may upset
in the night.”

Wife. “I tell you I am going to see the
flash-light pictures taken to-night.”

Husband. “ But, see here, dear, it is very
dangerous—a big moose may jump into the
canoe.”

Wife. “I tell you, I don’t care; I am

going.”

With a Kodak 217

So we went, and a good companion she was,
and assisted in manipulating the light with
skill as we flashed the deer. To her the deadly
stillness of the night as we paddled over the
surface of the lake was awe-inspiring and
fascinating. Among the timber in the dis-
tance could be heard the yelp, yelp of the wolf
pack on the trail of the flying deer; although
very faint in the beginning the sound became
more distinct as the pack warmed in the chase
and the scent freshened on the trail. On they
came pell-mell towards the lake. We knew
by the sound they were running a hot trail,
and it was a close call for the noble creature
that was making great strides for the water
before the pack should overtake it.

Out of the depths of the silent forest came
the “ Hoo-hoo-hoot-hoot ” of the hoot-owl and
the echo re-echoed in the distant hills. A
slight breeze began to rise, and the black
clouds in the west indicated that a storm was
brewing, and the night not suitable for hunt-
ing big game with a camera. The elements
were at work; lightning began to play in the
heavens; thunder-clouds began to form in the

218 Hunting Big Game

distance, and we knew a heavy rain was com-
ing on, but we were too far away from camp
to think about reaching there before the storm,
consequently we were reconciled to our fate.
We had a long portage to make through a
dense wood, and if we were to reach camp, it
behooved us to start back immediately. Under
instructions the guide made for port, while
the nimrod put away his cartridge-filled
weapon and flash-lights to keep his load and
powder dry.

By the time we reached the portage rum-
bling in the heavens could be heard, and occa-
sionally a flash of lightning illuminated the
forest as it seemed to play among the trees,
while the party made all haste. for camp, the
guide in the lead with the canoe on his
shoulder, and “ Jack” bringing up the rear,
throwing its rays forward along the trail.
When we reached the end of the portage, it
began to rain and the thunder pealed forth
clap after clap, each louder than the other,
and the lightning was so vivid it seemed the
lake was aglow with fire as the forked flashes
blazed over the rippling water. Amidst it

With a Kodak 219

all, our little canoe forged its way through the
water as the rain came down in torrents. The
party was well provided with water-proof
coats and really enjoyed the trip hugely, being
something out of the ordinary.

Deer Lodge.

After staying about a week at “ Deer
Lodge,” as we named that particular camp, we
decided to try another location for pictures.
Early in the morning there were “ doings ” in
camp, each individual gathering up his earthly

220 Hunting Big Game

possessions for a hasty start, and after break-
fast all hands were piling into the birch canoes,
and sad was the parting as we rounded the
point and saw the last glimpse of our Lodge
camp. On our way across the lake one of the
party threw his troll into the water, unwound
his reel, and scarcely had the shining object as
it revolved in the clear water disappeared when
we heard him shout, “ I have him!” and he be-
gan to haul in and landed a four-pound
lake trout for lunch. The country was full
of beautiful little lakes, and after making sev-
eral short portages we halted for lunch at the
beginning of a long rough portage, and while
the guides were carrying the equipment across
the portage the tenderfeet were trying to start
a fire. It had rained considerably and every-
thing was wet, and it was with the greatest
difficulty a light could be secured. Finally,
the fire was going and things looked favorable
for a good lunch. The gong sounded heavy
and dull in the atmosphere laden with rain,
but all the more sweet to the hungry pack.
We had just about got well started on the
- meal when the flood-gates of the happy hunt-

With a Kodak 221

ing grounds on high were let loose, and in
less time than it takes to write it our plates
were filled with a new dish composed of rain-
water, the lake trout baked to crisp, and baked
beans. But the tenderfeet all declared and
vowed that the experience was fascinating, and
a trip abroad could not compare with it for
pleasure and enjoyment. The party in its
majority was made up of men inexperienced
in this kind of life, and it was an occasion for
some serious thought as to how they would
take a ducking like this one. They looked like
veterans, and I can assure my readers they
never saw a more enthusiastic crowd of camp-
ers bubbling over with enjoyment when we had
pitched camp for the night some twenty miles
farther on by a lake-side. And no wonder!
The camp was pitched on a beautiful spot at
a time when the lake was so calm and the re-
flection so perfect that it was almost impossi-
ble to tell where the shore-line met the water.
A rainbow of unusual brillianey, with sec-
ond and third reflections, appeared just in
front of the camp.
~ Out from beneath the overhanging white

ble to Tell the Shore-l

Impossi

222

ine.

Hunting with a Kodak 223

birch tree, with mother in the lead and her
brood following, came a flock of fish-ducks
skimming over the surface of the water, leav-
ing in their wake a trail over the smooth sur-
face, growing broader and broader, and, as

Sheidrakes

far as the eye could carry, the sheldrakes,
mere specks in the distance, could be seen
making haste to reach the opposite shore for
cover.

224 Hunting Big Game

In the morning we had early callers in
camp, neighbors who dwelt among the stately
birches—brothers of the forest which have
stood for ages, tottered some of them and fal-
len, with now a covering of green moss, afford-

ing shelter and protection to the ruffed grouse’

An Ideal Spot for Game.

who live and enjoy God’s own country, as one
of the party expressed it. Just at the peep
of day they made the call, and after investi-
gating the tents, cooking utensils, etc., and
strutting around the yard, they disappeared

ee?

With a Kodak 225

into the depths of the forest from whence they
came, as the blue smoke began to curl up
and up among the trees in a northerly di-
rection, indicating that breakfast would be
ready by and by.

The guides were anxious to get us to stay

Beaver House.

as long as possible in the woods, and were un-
der the impression that if we were not suc-
cessful with our pictures we would pay a
premium for good snap-shots. Finally we
offered the guides two dollars extra for each
moose picture, and they were at once anxious

15

226 - Hunting Big Game

to take us where we could see plenty of moose.
About the break of day, all hands were ready
for an excursion into the hunting grounds
among: the lily-pads and swamps. After mak-
ing several portages and crossing several of
the most beautiful little lakes, we arrived at
-an ideal spot for game. |

>
,

Beaver Dam.

Under positive instructions imposing quiet,
the canoes glided noiselessly over the water
into the haunts where the moose feeds. The
sun was well up in the heavens as the birch-
bark passed with never a swish over the smooth

With a Kodak 227

surface of each little pool, separated by nar-
row passages from its neighbors, all making
one continuous chain covered with willows,
swamp-grass and lily-pads, the greater part
of the latter, however, eaten off by moose.
Stems of lily-pads could be seen sticking
up out of the water, with here and there a

Beaver Lake.

bunch of roots floating on the surface, indicat-
ing where moose had been feeding. Along
our way, we saw several beaver houses in-
geniously built from wood and mud for
protection.

228 Hunting with a Kodak

And farther down the little animals had
built a dam across the stream with logs, some
of them more than a foot in diameter; thus
causing the water to back up, covering con-
siderable land.

On each side of the stream, large trees, that
had grown and flourished there, had died by
reason of the water; and there their trunks
stood bare and gaunt; and ere long the flooded
tract will become a large meadow, owing to the
labor of the little beaver, where the moose will
congregate during the rutting season, and
where I have no doubt many a battle royal
will be fought over their love affairs.

Emerging from a little narrow stream into
a large body of water, we saw a cow moose in
the water feeding; but, the wind being un-
favorable, she threw up her head, sniffed the
air, and started for the bush, before we could
get within range for a shot with the camera. —

On our way down a sluggish stream be-
tween two small lakes, wind and sun being
favorable, we almost held our breath as the
guide drove the canoe round several curves
with silent skill, until, around one headland,

“poropTIMod

62Z

230 Hunting Big Game

before the victim was aware of the presence of
a human being, the bow of the boat was within
twenty-five feet of a large cow moose. Lift-
ing her head, there she stood on the bank with
ears turned forward, looking at the strange
object with her large bright eyes, visibly be-
wildered as to what to do.

DUET
Peas seat 7

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—

CAS
——

Jewel of Windy Lake.

Occasionally she would turn her head one
way, then another, as though she would like
to turn around, but was afraid to do so. Pres-
ently her ears went back and hair stood up,

With a Kodak 231

and slowly turning round, she retreated into
the timber out of our view.

Down the sluggish current, as smooth as
glass, we proceeded, passing countless lilies—
the reflection of the trees in the water as
they towered high above on either side mak-
ing an impression upon the mind long to be
remembered.

Returning about an hour afterwards, just
as we re-entered the pond, there on the western
side of the water, we could see two moose feed-
ing, one of which, however, soon took to cover.
The other, a cow, continued to feed, seemingly
totally unconscious of us. Taking the wind-
ward side with the shadow of the boat and its
occupants away from the moose, the guide in
the stern with paddle in hand sent the frail
craft many feet nearer the quarry with every
stroke; and the little whirlpools made by the
paddle could be seen one after another at
regular intervals as they diminished to nothing
in the boat’s ripples in the distance.

Occasionally the moose would look up after
diving her head into the water for a sweet mor-
sel of lily-pads, with which in her mouth she

Len

232 Hunting with a Kodak

would stand with head erect. At such in-
stants everything about the canoe became as
still as a floating log; then, Just as soon as the
head went down again, the guide would give
another stroke of the paddle, thus sending
the boat nearer and nearer until within one
hundred feet of the game, when the artist

took a snap-shot.

Startled.
This accomplished, the canoe reached within
thirty feet, when another snap was taken.
Now things looked a little serious, for the
large ears went back and hair forward as she

‘rouUR_, Surusjeoiqy, 7 €€z

234 Hunting Big Game

advanced towards us in a threatening manner,
when the guide shouted, “Shoot her, Billy,
shoot her.”

By this time, we were within twenty feet;
and had she decided to charge, as at first she

On a Gallop.

seemed minded, it would have been impossible
for us to avoid a serious mishap; because the
momentum of so large a body, although shot
through the heart, inevitably would have
carried her on to the canoe, with consequently
greater danger for us than following a shot

With a Kodak 235

at long range. In the bush, close by, we
knew she had a calf; this fact, no doubt,
caused her to consider well the question of a
charge, and, changing her mind, she started
at a gallop down the shore, making the water
splash as she travelled for some distance be-
fore entering the bush.

IN DES

iegen, 227
15 meadows, 56, 99
; story, The, 102 +=} Bighorn, sheep, 27
- Habits of, 32
—and the — Hunting, 1
; Stalking, 28
Birch-bark, History of, 90
i Uses of, 93, 106, 109, 180,
cowboy The, 127 182
1 hermit, The, 141 Birds.
photography, 144 Chewink, 98
ion of it, 117 Cranes, Sandhill, 45, 174,
fishing, 206 . 187
Ducks, 94, 147
ae Eagle, 81
fellow, 56 Geese, Canadian, 50
a Grouse, 18
Hawks, Fish-, 174
Jays, 140
Kingfisher, 107
Logcock, 66
Loon, 174, 183
Moose-birds, 119
Osprey, 46
Owl, 192, 194
Partridge, Pine, 176, 196,
224
va, 170, es Sandpipers, 3, 47
Whiskey-jack, 13
Woodpecker, 140.
Wren, 122
Bread-making, 34

237

238

British Columbia, 43
Brush River, 44
Buck-fever, 158

-hunt in Michigan, 162
Butterflies, 22, 33

Calling a moose, 199
Call of the wild, 62
to arms, 85
Camp fire, 59
Campbellton, 86
Canadian geese, 50
Canoe repairing, 109
Caribou-bait for bear, 65
dew-claws, I00
Hunting, 83
Road, 1
Stalking, 99
Casas Grandes, 126
Cave Valley, 146
Dwellers, 146
Chihauhua, 137
Chipmunk, 83
Choke-cherries, 16
Columbia River, 43
Sunset on, 69
Companionship, 70
Cranes, Sandhill, 45, 174, 187

Dan, the deer hound, 153
Decoy for geese, 52
Deer, Black-tail, 21, 23, 26,
IIo
charging, 164
feeding, 193
Flashlight of, 215
Photographing, 110, I19
swimming, 162
White-tail, 136
Deer Lodge, 219

ee
ami

Index

Doctor’s moose story, The,
IOI
Dogs trailing, 155
Ducks, Black, 147
Fish, 94
Mallard, 147
Teal, 147

Eagle, Golden, 81
Ewer Cave, 148
Evolution of the birch-bark,

93

“ Fiddle-top-ferns,”” 59
Fire, by lightning, 196
Danger of, 59, 135
Fish.
Pike, 170, 177
Pickerel, 181
Salmon, 124
Trout, 18, 41
Fishing on the Restigouche,

89 z
Flashlights, 214
Flies, Black, 95
Flowers, 22, 34
Fog, like a pall, 23, 35
Fraser River Road, 4

Game-warden, Mexican, 128
Geese, Canada, 50
General H.—Story of, 110
George Lake, 187
Goat, 16, 37
Goodfellow’s shack, 54
Grizzly, Hunting the, 43 ‘
Stalking the, 58 :
Grouse, 18
Guide, My congenial, 71
Guides as companions, 37, 70,
225 :

Index | 239

Calling, 107, 115, 180, 182,
199
charging, 203
courtship, tor
cow, 91, 94, 97
feeding, 91, 227, 231
horn shovel, 197
Photographing, I2I, 230
Stalking, 114
““Morning, stranger,” 74
Mountain goats, 16
' Sierra Madre, 127

Muskoka, 169 -

Muskrat, 214

Nest of fish-hawk, 174
New Brunswick, 85

“Old Ephraim,” 53
Old Mexico, oe trip in,
125
Staging in, ey
Osprey fishing, 46
“Otter,’’ 172
Outfitting, 176
Owl, Hoot, 192, 194

Pack, The baying, 157
Partridge, Pine, 176, 196, 224
Pheasant, 83
Photographing by flashlight,
215

deer, 110, 119

in Mexico, 144

moose, 122, 232
Pickerel, 181
Pike, Trolling for, 170, Le
Playing beaver, 95
Porcupine, 56, 80
Pottery, 148

240 Index

Preparing the trophy, 106
.Ptarmigan, 39

Rainbow, 221

Rainy weather, 220

Rats, Wood, 105

Red Squirrel, 178
Restigouche River, 86, 124
Ridge ‘River, ro
Roosevelt, President, 151

Salmon trout, 182
Sandpipers, 3, 47
‘“Sanpeet,”” 133

Scent making, 24, 78
‘‘Scoulaps,”’ 27
Sheldrakes, 223

Shovel, Moose horn, 197
Sierra Madre, 127

Signs of the Wild, 79
Snow-drifts, 16, 20, 34
Snow-slides, 47, 33, 53, 56
Sonora, 137

“Spring greens,’’ 159
Squirrels, 84, r19, 178
Stag in flashlight, 215
Stage ride in Old Mexico, 128
Stalking the Grizzly, 58
Stillwater, 90

Swan, White, 45

Tenderfoot, Hunting with a,
167
in trouble, 172

stalking, 179
trolling, 171
Thunder, 218
ek OL 80
Tom, the guide, 117
Towing on the Restigouche,
87
Trapper Goodfellow, 54
Trapper’s life, 72
Trapping bear, 81, 176
beaver, 77, 80
eagle, 81
marten, 76
Trees, Cottonwood, 79
Trophy, Preparing the, 106,
204
Trout, 18, 41
Trout, Lake, 220
Salmon-, 182
‘“Tump’’-line, 178
Tyhee Jimmy, to, 24

Van Dyke, Rev. Henry, 86
Virginia, Hunting in, 151,153

Water-fowl, 44

on Kippewa, 174
Whiskey-jack, The, 13
White-Brook Falls, 97
Wife vs. Husband, 216
Windy Lake, 205
Wolf, Gray, 180
Wood-rats, 105,
Wren, 122

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