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FOREST AND STREAM.

A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF THE ROD AND GUN.

CopyriGuT, 1899, sy Forest anp STREAM PuBLtsHING Co.

Terms, $4 a Year. 10 Crs. a Copy. Stx Monrus, $2.

NEW YORK, SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1899.

VOL, LIII.—No. 1. { no. 846 Broapway, New York e

The Forest AND STREAM is the recognized medium of entertain- ment, instruction and information between American sportsmen. The editors invite communications or the subjects to which iis pages are devoted. Anonymous communications will not be re- garded. While it is intended to give wide latitude in discussion of current topics, the editors are not responsible for the views of correspondents.

Subscriptions may begin at any time. Terms: For single copies, $4 per year, $2 for six months. For club rates and full particulars respecting subscriptions, see prospectus on page iv.

Consider but the rudiment of a tall and um- brageous tree, from so minute a seed as may be

borne away by every blast. Evelyn, True Religion, L, 29.

Tuts number, which is the first of the fifty-third volume,

gives occasion to remark anew on our weekly issues, with their never-failing supply of material which is notable for quantity and quality. When the Forest AND STREAM was established in 1873, it was with the first number pledged to a cause. “The object of this journal,” wrote Mr. Hallock, “will be to studiously promote a healthful interest in outdoor recreation, and to cultivate a refined taste for natural objects.” This purpose has ever since

been held in view. The Forest AND STREAM has been.

the representative organ of the field sportsmanship of the country. It has constituted a medium for expression of the sentiment of sportsmen; an advocate of their rights, privileges and interests. What better adjunct may be wished for in the make-up of one equipped for securing success in the various pursuits of life than that he should have the sportsman’s taste for the outdoor life of the forest and the stream? and for one thus endowed how haply shall he supplement his outing experiences more profitably and enjoyably than to have the Forest AND

SrreAM for his home companion?

SAIL, SEA AND SKY.

THE condition of the sport of yachting, as known to the world at large at the present time, is fitly described by the term fin de siecle. Wherever one reads of yacht- ing, and it is just now impossible to pick up a paper or a magazine without finding some allusion to it, but one story is told, that of reckless extravagance in the wild chase for extreme speed. The side of the sport which is brought into exclusive prominence in the} public prints is hardly an ideal one—two men of vast wealth are striv- ing to outdo each other in a contest in which neither takes a personal part except to the extent of paying the bills, while the great body of yachtsmen look on from the outside as mere casual spectators. Such details as are deemed worthy of publication set forth how much larger each of the competitors is than any previous yacht, how much more sail she carries, how much faster she is ex- pected to be, how much more she has cost and how each rival owner is outdoing the other in incidental extrava- gance, such as the buying or building of steam yachts and the chartering of ocean steamers. It is impossible to read anything relating to the one great event about which the yachting of the year is centered without coming to the conclusion that it is money first and sport a long, long way afterward.

The beautiful picture which forms our supplement this week bears silent but effective testimony to another side of the sport, which fortunately exists, though obscured for the time both to the general and the yachting public. The photograph here engraved speaks eloquently of the peace, the freedom and the content which are the natural accompaniments of the noble sport of yachting. The sail—that silent servant that transports man, not like the shuttle, thrown noisily and rapidly back and forth in one fixed track, but with an uncertainty of speed and course which are of themselves fascinating and rest- ful. The sea—the free and open pathway to all parts, the rest and refuge of tired man from the earliest days, but never so much so as now, when the whole face of the earth is girdled and gridironed by the express train and the clanging, whirring electric “trolley.” The sky— hidden from the unfortunate dweller in the cities, or seen

but as a narrow ribbon of blue between the deep and narrow walls of a great stone chasm, but to the yachts- man a vast hemisphere bounded only by the level sea, both of them free to him in every quarter.

With every new convenience and luxury of modern invention comes an increasing complication of life which ties man more closely to a beaten track as long as he bears a foot on the shore, and makes still more welcome and grateful to him the very different life that is opened to him through the sport of yachting.

Among the many attractive features of the sport, that of racing must always hold a prominent-place; it is after a day of hard work with brain and hand against a keen adversary that the dinner on board tastes best and a narrow berth seems a bed of down; or after 2 week of racing that one comes back with renewed zest to the quieter pleasures of cruising. The tendency of the day, however, is to exalt racing from its true position as a useful auxiliary of yachting life, to the sole end and aim of all yachting; and to establish the racing machine as the one ideal yacht, to-the exclusion of the cruising craft. The racing is no longer a question of relative speed be- tween evenly matched yachts and skippers of equal skill, but the one end in view is the production of a single yacht which shall attain a speed hitherto unknown. To this end all other interests of yachting are sacrificed, until the actual harm to the sport at large is even greater than the phenomenal advances in speed within the past five years. The sight of a modern go-footer, at anchor or un- der way, is one that inspires a feeling of wonder and admiration at the perfection of finish and of mechanical detail, as well as the marvelous speed. At the same time the feeling is inevitable that the yachting which these craft are capable of is a very different sort of sport from that of a dozen years ago, when yachts were slower and less elaborate and costly, but the racing was equally as keen and much more general. The whole future of the sailing yacht hinges on the question that after five years or more is apparently as far from a solution as ever: shall yachts be built solely for racing, or shall they be built for yachting and used for racing within moderate and reasonable limitations ?

THE BALTIMORE GAME CASES.

THE decisions handed down by the Maryland Court of Appeals last week in the Baltimore game selling cases were precisely what were to have been,looked for by all persons familiar with the points at issue. The game commission men were simply threshing over old straw. They had set up claims to privileges which had been repeatedly denied by the highest courts of several States, and thus they offered a new opportunity for estab- lishing only more firmly the principles involved.

It was the old question of the right to sell in close season game imported from another State, when such traffic is specifically forbidden by the statutes. The par- ticular provision involved was one secured by the Mary- land Game and Fish Protective Association, in the law of 1898, reading as follows:

15 r. No person shall have in possession, expose for sale, sell or buy any of the aforesaid birds or game animals alive or dead, in said city of Baltimore, or in any of the aforesaid respective counties, during the aforesaid respective closed seasons, or dates, between which, in said city or counties, it is made unlawful, by the pre- ceding sections of this Act, to shoot or have the same in posses- sion, whether such birds or game animals so had in possession, exposed for sale, sold or bought, shall have been shot, or in any manner caught or killed in that county, or in any other county of this State, or in any other State, Territory or country, under a penalty for the having in possession, exposing for sale, selling or buying of each such bird or game animal, similar in amount, respectively, to that hereinbefore made and provided for the illegal shooting or having in possession of the same; but nothing in this section or the preceding sections contained shall be.so con- strued as to prevent any person or corporation from having in his or its possession, at any time, any live birds or game animals, for the purpose of stocking lands in this State.

The dealers resented this restriction; they held a mass meeting to denounce it; formed an association to fight it, and carried to the Court of Appeals the test cases of State of Maryland vs. Stevens, and State of Maryland vs. Rice, in both of which the main issue was as to the constitutionality of the law. The familiar contention was made that restriction of traffie in game imported from another State is an interference with interstate com- merce, the regulation of which is by the Constitution of the United States intrusted exclusively to the control of

Congress.

To make the test more perfect and to take advantage of the original package decisions, in one of the cases the game had been sold in the original package as received from another State.

The Court sustained the findings of the lower courts as to the unrestricted authority of the State to adopt what- ever measures might be deemed necessary for the regula- tion of the taking and traffic in game, to conserve the native supply within its borders. It was held that the interstate commerce clause did not apply.

As we have said, these decisions are but the formulating in Maryland of principles which have been enunciated re- peatedly by the courts of last resort elsewhere. One case notable because one of the earliest of the kind, and be- cause it has had a marked effect upon legislation ever since, was that of Phelps vs. Racey, in New York, in the early seventies. J. H. Racey was a game dealer in New York City who had in possession several hundred quail in cold storage in the close season, and in violation of the statute. The New York Society for the Protection of Game, through its President, Royal Phelps, brought suit to recover the penalty and did recover it. The case then went on appeal to the highest court, which found in favor of the Association, and established the principle which has held from that day to this, that a law forbidding the sale of game in close time, whether the game was killed in the State or outside of it, is not in conflict with the constitutional provision that Congress alone shall regulate interstate commerce. The full text of the decision is contained in the July number of Woodcraft, as one of the series of “Game Law Test Cases” which is in course of publication in that magazine.

In fact the precedents were all against the Baltimore market men. A review of the game legislation of the last quarter-century and of the judicial interpretations of that legislation and of the principles governing it for the same period will convince any student of the subject of these two facts:

(1) That there is a growing tendency on the part of the legislative branch to assert the State’s full control of game and fish and to embody in legislation a more and more strict exercise of such control; and

(2) That the courts will uphold the constitutionality of such regulations. This is manifest in the repeated rulings of different States, and if one shall look to the Supreme Court of the United States it will be found there that the ruling principles have had full enunciation in the well-known case of Geer vs. State of Connecticut, the decision’ in which is reported in full in- the April number of the Woodcraft Magazine.

The basic principle is this, that the game oi the State belongs to the State, that is to say, to the entire people ot the State; and it is for them to say when, how and for what purposes the game may be taken by the individual. The State may further regulate the sale of game, with- out regard to its origin, in any way essential to the con- servation of its own native supply. It is said that the Baltimore dealers will appeal to the Supreme Court of the United States. We have been for some years looking for some public spirited dealers in game who would take this question to Washington. There can be but one out- come of such a proceeding; it will re-establish and con- firm the rulings of the State courts.

The prosecutions out of which these cases grew were instituted by the Maryland Game and Fish Protection | Association, through its President, Mr. Geo. Dobbin Pen- niman, who argued the cases with Attorney-General Gaither and State’s Attorney Duffy. We congratulate the Association upon the outcome.

It is a pleasure to record that Rhode Island now has a game commission, and that the Governor has named a board of commissioners who have the confidence of the sportsmen. We look for a new order of things in the grouse districts. The measure was introduced by Senator Reiner. Another excellent amendment made by the Gen- eral Assembly was one forbidding the sale of squirrels and rabbits in close season. This was the unlooked for out- come of an endeavor by the market men to have legalized the sale of all game in close season. Mr. Chas. D. Kim- ball, a member of the House, deserves much credit for his activity in opposing the déalers’ bill.

The annual meeting of the American Fisheries Society was held at Niagara Falls this week on Wednesday and Thursday.

FOREST AND STREAM.

Che Sportsman Tonrist. The Trapper’s Shack.

THEY are not palatial residences by any means, but they serve as a home just the same, and I have seen them when they were beheld with something like the joy a traveler feels who greets an oasis on the Sahara.

I had a little experience once in the swamps of Missouri, on Little River. It was in the early ’70s a party of us were on a camp hunt; we had been in camp several days and were having a jolly time. Deer were plentiful and the fishing was all that we could ask. One morning I con- cluded I would do a little prospecting on foot and alone; so I left camp bright and early and plunged into the swamp. After walking several hours without seeing any game, I sat down on a log and ate my lunch, then lit my pipe for a good smoke. Presently I saw a large fox squirrel frisking on a limb directly over me, and I soon had him in the bag. That put me in mind that as I had no game to my credit, I would bag a few of them. After an hour or so had been spent after them and I had a pretty good bag, I began to think of returning to camp. I struck off in the supposed direction, and after walking, as I thought, long enough to reach camp, began to be apprehensive that I was not going right. I could see no familiar landmarks. It had been cloudy all the after- noon, and I had forgotten my compass, so I was lost as to direction. I fired my gun several times, but heard no response save its echo. Then I knew I was lost.

1 tried another direction, and walked till I was getting very tired, for a lost man walks very fast. I was hungry too, and had given my belt an extra hitch to compress the void. The 7lb. gun felt as heavy as a Queen Amne musket. My watch told me that I did not have much more daylight to spend. I thought of everything I had ever read about telling the points of the compass—the knife blade, thumb nail, the watch face, the moss on the trees, the rough and smooth side of the trees. I tried them all, and each one seemed to lead me deeper in the swamp. I came to the conclusion that I was in for a night of it, and began to cast my eyes about for a suitable place for a lean-to. I had a supply of matches and could dress and broil one of my squirrels for supper.

With these thoughts in my head and still walking, I suddenly came upon a little shack nestled deep in the woods. One would hardly see it till almost right upon it. My spirits went up a dozen points as I hastened my steps toward it. It was built of logs, with a stick and dirt chimney. There was no fence around; the heavy woods came almost to the door. Hanging on some bushes was an old seine and some fishnets that had beer freshly tarred. In the corner of the chimney were a few weather- beaten cane fishing poles. On a large nail driven in one of the trees was a trout-line. A few old rusty game traps were lying around; coon, deer and bear skins stretched on canes were hanging here and there. All these proclaimed the avocation of the owner. In the only window of the little shack, which was a square hole, closed by a sliding board, were one or two tomato cans, in which were a few morning glories trying to climb some strings. A clothesline stretched from tree to tree with a few articles of wearing apparel, a large iron kettle on some blackened chunks, a tub and washboard, showed that there was a woman around; and the little grape-vine swing and the mud pies neatly arranged on a board gave plain evidence of children’s presence. All these were taken in at a glance as I hastened my steps. I knew I would be welcome to such as they had, and after being refreshed and rested would be directed back to camp.

On my near approach an old hound set up a dismal howl that brought a woman to the door. In a few words I made her acquainted with my situation. The good woman invited me in and one of the children was sent to the spring for cool water. While the busy housewife is preparing a frugal meal, I take in the interior. The floor is roughly covered with slabs; a large goods box answers for a cup- board; there are a plain homemade table covered with oil- cloth, a few plain chairs, one or two pictures of Presidential candidates on the walls. Over the low door are a pair of deer horns that serve as a rack for the long Kentucky rifle, game bag, bullet pouch and a highly decorated pow- der horn. On a small table I see a few old books and a large Bible. In one corner stands a bed covered with homemade quilts of bright but uncertain pattern, but all spotlessly clean. The old cedar churn and the shining milk vessels prove that the owner believes in cleanliness.

While my hostess was out of the room I raised the lid of the old family Bible. It opened to where the record of births and marriages and deaths are recorded, and then I soon had the history of the family. I had replaced the Bible before she came in, and began to make friends with the children. When she came in I called the youngest to me, and called it by name. The woman looked a little surprised that I should know it. I asked the little one its age. It did not know. I then told it how old it was, giv- ing its birthday. Then I gave all the children their full names and date of birth. The woman by this time had left the fireplace where she was cooking and asked me who told me their ages. I told her no one, and that 1 had never been in that nart of the country before in my life and had never heard of them before.

“How can you tell these things, if no one has told you?” she asked.

“Oh, that is easy, if you know how,” said I. I then gave her her own age, and date of birth and marriage: also her maiden name. By this time I could see she was getting quite uneasv, so I picked up the Bible and opened at the record. “There, madam, is how I found out so much.”

T think she felt as much relieved as I did when I had spied the shack. She laughed heartily when the trick was exposed, Pretty soon the hound again gave tongue to one of those dismal howls, and the children flew to meet their father. who they knew was coming. He, too. was made acquainted with mv situation and gave me a heartv welcome to his humble fare. Supper was an- rourced. Such a supper I did not expect to find in that shack—good coffee. with sugar and cream. too: bis, fat. white biscuits, venison steak. fresh fish, a jug of milk and plate of yellow butter, rold from the spring, wild honey—

and it tasted all right, too. We gathered around the table, the old hunter offered up thanks to Him above for all that he enjoyed, his family and stranger under his roof-tree. It was an impressive scene—one that you don’t find in every hunter’s shack.

It goes without saying that I did full justice to that meal; I loosened my belt so as not to be hampered. After supper I told the the hunter where we were camped on Little River. “Well, I can have you in camp in a very few hours,” said he. ‘My shack is within a short dis- tance of Little River, and I am going out in my boat to- night with my headlight after ducks and can take you just as well as not;” which he did, and landed me safe in camp by bedtime. y

Years have passed, but I have never forgotten that day nor the trapper and his family, and I don’t let Santa Claus forget them, either. C. L. BRADLEY.

CLARKSVILLE, Tenn.

“The Man who Visits Spiker.”

Editor Forest and Stream:

One evening after supper Jim sat smoking on the step of his front porch, admiring the beauty of the wide ex- panse of rolling valley that lay between him and a dis- tant hazy mountain. His dog lay at charge near by, ap- parently in the same degree of meditation as his master. The sun had settled behind a large cloud bank, whose top and sides were trimmed in brilliant gold and silver sunshine, while from beneath broad bands slanted sharply in the direction of his gaze.

A step in his neighbor’s yard and the pattering gallop of his setters, as they bounded around the corner of the house, caused Jim’s dog to prick up his ears and tap the walk with his tail, then bound forward to meet his play-fellows. After Jim had invited his neighbor over to enjoy the view with him, and the inevitable pipes were well a-going, Jim said:

“I was thinking of what a happy hunting ground the Indian had when he occupied the country we see before us. Then, wild and uncultivated, it must have been a good place to hunt in.”

“Yes, and I can say that it has been so long since the Indian departed, for I have hunted over all that territory myself. Years ago, before the march of improvement was so progressive, I have brought to bag many a quail in the lower country and grouse on yonder hill. There is an old man in this neighborhood who will tell you of the time when deer, turkey and bear were quite plenty. To-day there is nothing but a few hares in the thickets and an occasional grouse on the bluffs of the mountain, which would not be even there now if the hunters could get at them. But thoughts of the past bring vain re- grets, and from a sportsman’s standpoint, what little of life I have left I want to devote to comforts of the present and anticipations of the future.”

“T like your sentiment,” said Jim, “and as to present comfort, if we have been good and true sportsmen, the knowledge of that fact is satisfying. The future is de- pendent. To me it looks a little gloomy, and in that I disturb my comfort; but, judging from the past and the present ‘outlook, our sons will see the day when their guns will be useless. Already our own territory is nearly depopulated of game, and if we go far we en- croach upon some one’s else territory, who will in time, by laws, deprive us of the privilege of hunting upon it. States are making non-resident laws; rich clubs are establishing extensive preserves, and the overflow from 'them are protected by trespass laws. What shall we do?”

“Get rich and join a club,” said the neighbor. “Prob- ably the best thing to do is to make the best of what we have while we can, be law-abiding, moderate in our in- dulgence, and let the future take care of itself. If game Sp sengene the finding of any will be all the more grati-

ying.’ :

“That’s a philosophic view, at any rate. As to getting rich, if you will show me the way, I will follow it.”

“I believe the man who is even with the world, who envies his neighbor northing, has all the comforts he needs and who is contented, is rich enough. Wealth can only bring luxury, and luxury breeds discontent. The hardest part of it all is to be contented.”

“Your philosophy reminds me of an old toll collector on the road to one of the places we shall visit next fall. Once, when driving over, I stopped to pay toll, which was 4 cents. I handed him a nickel and told him to keep the change. ‘No,’ said he; ‘every man should keep his own. If I should keep the penny I would feel as though I had something that did not belong to me.’ In speaking to my host of the occurrence, he said: ‘That old man is as conscientious and honest as it is possible for any man to be. His income is so small that he can hardly make both ends meet, yet he is happy and contented.’ It does me good to go among such people, and in the country where I visit I find the majority of the people that way. No strife, no selfishness and possess- ing a neighborly kindness that city people do not feel.”

“That is one of the good influences that a sportsman comes in contact with and accounts for a good deal of his better nature. When I return from a visit to such people I always feel more charitable toward my fellow man, and the desire to repeat the visit is stronger every time. make new acquaintances, acquire new hunting territory, and am glad to believe that my return is always welcome. The farmer, and country people generally, are among my, best friends.”

“There is an inseparable relation between the sports- man and the farmer that may be strained or strength- ened according to its abuse or respect. I look upon the farmer as the sportsman’s best and indispensable friend, for it is he who furnishes the land and through whose courtesy the sportsman is permitted to hunt upon it. I have always found the farmer willing to meet a gentle- man more than half way. Rowdies he will not tolerate. Nearly all farmers like to hunt, and they possess a keen sense of its enjoyment, although they may. to some extent, be lacking in appreciation of some of its minor details, that go to make the. city man’s outing enjoyable, because an every-day association with his surfoundings makes thém less noticeable to him than to his city brother, who comes in contact with them only when enjoying the farmer’s hospitality. Just so is the case with the city man who sees much less at home than does his country friend when visiting the city. My

e

[Juty 1, 1899.

friends from the country often point out things to me that I have never seen before, and which are equally interest- ing to me after I have found them. Most farmers are naturalists in a general way, if not scientific. The sea- sons of vegetation are of necessity well learned by them, and the habits of common animals and game are general- ly well understood. From boyhood they have associ- ated with these things, so that they are as able to judge of what is good for one and another as average humanity. And contact with the rapidly increasing army of sports- men adds greatly to their knowledge of human nature.”

“When you spoke of the farmer meeting the sports- man half way I was reminded of an incident in my own experience,” said the neighbor. “Adjoining the farm of my host was one belonging to a man who was considered in the communty as a hard man to deal with, in that he was severely strict in his business transactions with his neighbors, even to the minutest detail, yet obliging and charitable when occasion required. His farm was posted, and I was cautioned against encroaching upon it. One morning, while covering a field on my friend’s land, a bevy of quail went over into the forbidden ter- ritory. I marked them down in a small brier patch, where the shooting would be easy, and after studying a while, I determined to take chances and go over. My dogs soon pointed, and I got a brace of birds. Then I heard a shout and saw a man coming toward me. Re- solved to face the situation like a man, I went to meet him. His face was stern, but there was no sign of anger, and I considered that a point in my favor.

“‘Didn’t you see that notice?’ he said. ‘Yes, sir, I did, but those birds flew over here and I couldn’t resist the temptation to follow them,’ I replied; ‘but if you insist upon my going out I will do so, but I would like to have another chance at them.’

“*T have kept even my neighbors from shooting here and you couldn’t expect me to break the rule in favor of a stranger,’ he said,

“*No, sir; I don’t ask you to, and I am sorry I in- truded.’

“He scanned me closely without a word as I started for the line fence. but had not gone far when he called: ‘Say!’ As I stonned he came up and continued. ‘Ain’t you the man who visits Spiker?’ I said I was. ‘I thought so,’ said. ‘I’ve seen those dogs over there, and I have heard of you. Spiker is a good neighbor, and I don’t want to offend him or his guest. You can hunt here, but don’t shoot near the house; my daughter is sick and nervous.’

“T thanked him, and sent the dogs after the scattered bevy. He followed me around, and seemed delighted with watching the dogs work, and when I made a double shot he was captivated. After I had killed half a dozen of the birds I engaged with him in conversation, com- plimented him on the order in which his place was kept, and finally offered him the birds I had shot, of which he would accept only a couple for his daughter, and as I left he gave me a cordial invitation to hunt there again.”

“You cast your bread upon the waters,” said Jim, as his neighbor arose to go.

The evening was well spent, and he went into the house to refill his pipe and think of the future. ids

Pioneer Devs.—¥.

Unwelcome Visitors. BY ROWLAND E. ROBINSON.

DurincG the season of sugar-making Josiah became intimate with the Canada jays, impertinent thieves that they were; they were company, and so were the friendly chickadees and nuthatches, and woodpeckers that bored the logs of the house for grubs and drummed on the resonant stick chimney, and he made friends with a soli- - tary old crow, though they were likely to fall out after corn-planting. Bluebirds brought the color and song of heaven down to the clearing, and robins came, and blackbirds thronged the border of the marsh, where open pools began to form, into which returning water fowl dropped to rest and feed. Stumps, logs and winter- green-clad cradle knolls began to show above the snow. Partridges drummed far and near in the purpling woods. There the snow and ice disappeared magically, the black mould of the clearing was laid bare, and the blue water of the creek shimmered in the sunlight down to the slumpy ice of the bay, and there were the sounds of running brooks, the crackling croak of frogs and trill of toads, and lo! the miracle of spring had wrought its magic transformation.

The luxury they won from the maples made a most ac- ceptable addition to their monotonous fare. Josiah even attempted the manufacture of a pie from their precious stock of flour, with bear’s grease for shorten- ing, wild strawberries, sweetened with maple sugar, for filling, and was so far. successful that they ate the in- terior with considerable relish, and had the crust left over to fill again.

Summer was upon them, with no end of work to do, and when they could least afford it they both fell ill with fever and ague. One day they were burning with a consuming fire, the next shaking with chills that froze the marrow of their bones, and during both were barely able to crowl about to the most necessary tasks, though fortunately their ague fits came on alternate days.

During one June day when Kenelm lay shivering in all the blankets before a roasting fire, and Josiah was administering hot drinks of herbs and hemlock twigs, a figure darkened the door, and looking up they saw a tall Indian silently regarding them. He asked for food, and Josiah set cold johnny-cake and dried venison be- fore him, whereof he partook and departed as silently as he came.

Next day he returned, accompanied by an old squaw, and bringing a large salmon. The woman produced a package of dried red berries, giving out an aromatic odor like lemon peel. She called for liquor of some sort, and they brought out a quart bottle of hoarded New England rum.’ The Indian and squaw each took a drink from it to make room for the berries, which were then added, with the result of producing a mixture which was liquid fire. When Josiah, whose ague fit was on, took a mouthful of it, it burned its way into his interior with such effect that the ague was banished from his

Jury i, 1899.)

body, and a few doses made him well again, and with Kenelm the effect was the same, though at first he swore the Indians had poisoned him out of revenge for his share in the Rogers’ raid. The Indian told them that a party of their people were salmon fishing at the Lower Falls of Sun-gah-nee-took, or Lewis Creck. Next day the pioneers went over to sce the sport. Many women and children were all busy, some with bark nets at the weirs, others with curious wooden spears; others cleaning the fish, and others drying them on racks over smoking fires.

Next day half the Indians returned the visit, and were ov entertained, each with a spoonful of the prickly- ‘ash berry mixture, and a burned stomachful of moose meat and johnny-cake, and so became fast friends of the two white men, an alliance which soon proved most fortunate.

One day when the pioneers were hoeing their corn under the vigilant eye of Josiah’s late friend, the crow, descried two boats entering the creek from the bay, and the crews being attracted by the new clearing came to the landing and accosted the settlers. It was the party of a New York surveyor, engaged in locating New York grants. The official at once set up his Jacobstaff and proceeded to allot this pitch to a New York land speculator, and warned the present occupants off the premises, without compensation for their time, labors and betterments.

The party swaggered up from the landing, and made as free with the house and its contents as if all be- longed to them. One ransacked the loft and brought down dried venison to cook for the company. Another demanded flour, Indian meal not being good enough for such gentry. Old Kenelm fumed mightily, but discreetly withheld his hand from laying a cudgel about their shoulders.

“You fellows would best get out of this at once,” the surveyor said, “for Capt. Williams will be wanting to occupy his claim at once.”

“Maybe the Green Mountain boys will have a word to say about that,” said Josiah.

“To the devil with Allen and his scoundrels!” the other scoffed. ‘We'll have the whole crew hanged in a month. There is a reward out for the leaders.”

“Ketchin’ on ’em ’s another story,” said Josiah, and asked: “Haow big is your captain’s claim?”

“A thousand acres, running north, your stealings being nigh the south line.”

“That'll run int’ the Gov’nor’s right o’ five hundred acres.

“D— your Governor’s right! this province!”

“Seein’ the Cap’n ’s got so much he might leave us alone on this leetle patch.’

“No; off you go, and that’s all there is about it,” quoth the inexorable official.

The pioneers were at their wits’ end, and drew apart for a little consultation while the usurpers were busy with their cooking. The result was that Josiah slipped away, and was presently making his best speed toward the Indian camp. The unbidden guests took leisurely time with the meal furnished, in part from their own stores and in part from such things as they chose ef the settlers’ provisions, every mouthful of which was be- grudged them by old Kenelm, as he sat apart watching them out of the corners of his eyes in sullen silence.

Suddenly, as if they had stepped out of the gray shells of the tree trunks, a score of armed fantastic ce ap- peared on every side, and simultaneously announced their presence by a horrid discord of yells.

“What the devil!” exclaimed the surveyor, springing to his feet and dropping a choice tidbit of stolen moose tongue, while his party cowered in the corners and sought shelter behind the great jambs of the fireplace. “Who the devil are these Indians, and what do they want?” the surveyor asked of Kenelm when he re- covered a little from his surprise.

“Injins!” the old ranger repeated in derision. “Why, man alive, they hain’t nothin‘ but Green Mountain boys dressed up for business. They’ve got their faces daubed red an’ black tu hide their features, bein’ the’s a baounty sot on ’em. -If that big feller’s ol’ Ethan, which I don’t say he is or haint, it wouldn’t be pleasant for him tu hev you reco’nize him, and kerry him off tu Albany.”

“D— him, we're not hunting outlaws, but only peaceably surveying!” said the surveyor.

“Sart’inly, but a hundred paound would come handy tu most anybody,” Kenelm answered. ‘And’ what they want, an’ what we want, is for you an’ your peaceable crew tu git aout o’ these woods—an’ that almighty sud- den, tew!” he added, with startling emphasis. “Come, be makin’ tracks, quick! and fur apart!” and he made a menacing movement.

The surveyor, with his attendants, got speedily out of doors, and made toward their boats, their huddled‘ rank flanked and closely followed by the Indians, yelling and threatening, while Kenelm and Josiah could scarcely restrain from roughly handling the chopfallen Yorkers.

The boats were shoved off, and they were hustled into them, when Kenelm warned them to depart and return no more, under pain of chastisement with the twigs of the wilderness, all of which was emphasized by whoops and screeches of the Indians and discharge of guns, the bullets whistling threateningly over the heads of the retreating enemy.

After watching them out of sight behind the first headland in the direction of the Forts, the allies returned to the cabin. Here they celebrated their bloodless vic- tory in libations of fiery ague cure, a great spoonful to aa exhausting the stock to the red dregs, which were eked out to a milder potation by a replenishment of water, and the Waubanakees departed, after renewed vows of eternal friendship.

Digging Out Foxes. .

Suersrooke, P. Q.—B., of Barre; Vt., can come an hunt foxes with me whenever he likes. If I can’t go my- self, he may take my hound, my gun and anything that is mine.

B., of Barre, is the good sportsman who a few lines a week or so ago in condemnation of the digging out of holed foxes. I was surprised to learn that it was rn aes WALrton.

He’s got no right in

_ giving an old . the Barrow Archipelago is a good long way, off from the

FOREST AND STREAM.

Sanne nnn nn nn nn iS a

Yukon Notes.

Travelers on the Ice Trail.

ALL through December a long procession of men passed Fort Selkirk bound for God’s country. All classes of life were represented, from the Jew peddler to the millionaire mine owner, and it is only fair to the Jew to say that for grit and endurance no one surpassed him. Some trudged and tugged at heavy sleds and were their own dogs, as the saying went, and others trotted along behind well-broken dog teams and had their hired men to attend to the ani- mals and do the work of making and breaking camp.

It was a gayly caparisoned procession and not at all suggestive of the desperate race with famine and cold. The men who knew to a certainty that their provisions would not last them to the coast and who had no idea what