Fifty Years a Hunter and Trapper Part 13

Bill had sat down on a fallen tree that lay close to a large pine tree to rest before making the last pull to the top of the ridge. He had caught a glimpse of me just before I came to the brow of the hill where I stopped to send a wireless message. Bill skulked behind a pine tree to see what I would do and give me a scare, when I came along.

When I inquired what had kept him out all night, he said that he got so big a job on his hands that he could not get to camp. Bill said that he had got about half way down the side of the hill from the ridge leading down into the Conley River, when he jumped a buck, which Bill said slid down the hill like a greased rag. He fired at the pile and happened to catch him well back to the hips. The deer being wounded through the small intestines made it very sick, but it was still able to lead Bill a merry chase. Bill had been working from the middle of the forenoon until about three o'clock in the afternoon before he was able to get in a finishing shot on the buck. While following the deer, he had come near one of the places where we had a bear trap set and found that a bear had been caught. He followed the trail a little ways, and as it led in an opposite direction from that taken by the deer, Bill said he thought he would finish one job at a time, so he continued after the deer.

Before Bill was able to get in the finishing shot on the deer, it had swung around in the direction of the trail of the bear, so that when Bill finally got the buck, he knew that he could not be far from the trail of the bear. He hung up the saddles of the deer, which he had started to take to camp, and let the bear rest until the next morning. After hanging up the saddles he didn't search long until he found the trail of the bear, and followed the trail only a little ways, when he found Bruin fast in a clump of brush. Bill then killed the bear, and taking out the entrails, rolled the carca.s.s up over a log and again started for camp with the deer saddles. He did not go far when it was so dark that it was difficult to travel and carry the deer saddles and gun, so Bill said he thought he would build a little shelter and camp for the night.

Bill had started for camp with the saddles of the buck as soon as he could see to travel. He was near the top of the ridge on his way to camp and had sat down to rest when I came to the brow of the hill and began to "co-hoop" to see if I could get any word from him, which I did and much closer than expected. Bill brought his load up to where I was, and threw it down with the remark "I suppose that you did not think to bring along an extra lunch, did you?" When I told him I had the extra lunch, and also a bottle of tea (Bill being a great hand for tea). Well, said Bill, "then we are all right, once more." We now hung the deer saddles up, and went back after the bear. After setting the bear trap again, as Bill did not have time after he had killed the bear, we started to carry the bear to camp whole. We soon found it too heavy to carry that way, so skinned it and hung up the foreparts and took the skin and hindquarters.

The next morning, we went back after the deer. We went to where Bill had left the fore parts of the deer; then we went to where the fore parts of the bear were left, intending to take them as far as where the deer saddles were and leave them there, and take the deer saddles to camp. When we got to where the bear meat had been left, we found that a cat had been there, and filled his shirt on bear meat. It was not far to where we had a steel trap setting. I told Bill to go on slowly with the deer meat, and I would go and get the trap and set it for the cat. Bill said that he thought that would be the right thing to do, as there was a two dollar bounty on wild cats. He said we could carry the pelt of the cat a great deal easier than we could tote the bear meat; he thought that the cat skin and the bounty would even things up for the bear meat.

I soon had the trap set for the cat, and then hurried on to catch Bill. We went to camp with the deer and the next morning we took the bear and deer saddles to Emporium and shipped them to New York. The distance that we toted those saddles must have been ten or twelve miles. Say boys, won't a man do more hard work to get thirty cents out of a c.o.o.n skin, or a saddle of venison, or bear, than he would to get thirty dollars in some other way? As it had been three or four days since we had been over a good part of the trap line, we now got back to regular business, each one taking up his line of traps. Each night when he came to camp, we would have some kind of pelts to stretch, either two or three c.o.o.n, a mink or two, as many more fox, with now and then a marten. It would take the evening to stretch the pelts and tell our day's experience just what particular trap we got that or this fox in, or that mink or c.o.o.n; just how clever some shy old fox has worked to get the bait at a certain trap; on what particular ridge or point we had seen Old Golden's track (you know all large buck deer have the name of "Old Golden".)

Every man of the woods or trap line knows what pleasure there is in relating the experience of the day's hunt or of the trap line to his pard during the evening in camp. Yet, I will tell of one occurrence though I have told the story many times, and I cannot say that I relate it with any great amount of pleasure. Still since many years have pa.s.sed, I have often laughed over the circ.u.mstance. I can still see that sympathetic grin of Bill's, when he would ask "if it hurt me much."

It was a lowery morning, and Bill proposed that we go together and look after a line of traps on Salt Run, and then put in the balance of the day still-hunting deer. We went down to the lower end of the line, worked up the run so as to be near the top of the ridge and in a locality where we expected deer to be. We had not looked at more than three or four traps, when we came to one that was set under the bank. The trap chain was stapled to a root, and was stationary (and let me say here that I believe it bad policy to fasten a trap to anything, stationary) and it certainly was in this case for me. The water was quite deep right at the point where the trap was set and came close up to the bank. In order to see the trap, it was necessary to lie down on my stomach, and lean my head over the bank.

When I looked down under the bank, I saw that there was some animal in the trap. The trap chain was drawn tight and when I drew gently on the chain I could tell that some kind of an animal was in the trap. I little suspected that it was loaded, as it proved to be. I could not see what sort of an animal it was, but supposed it was a mink. It did not like to be drawn out in sight, and I was afraid to pull too hard on the chain for fear I would draw his foot out of the trap. I let up and straightened up to consult Bill, as to the best thing to do. Bill said, pull him out and if he gets away, we will get him at another trap, and I now suspect that Bill knew what was coming. I leaned down over the bank and stuck my head down to see where the chain was. All of a sudden I was struck with something more terrible than lightning if not quite so fatal, and for the next half hour I was rolling on the ground and washing my eyes. Bill said that I danced the Bear dance and a Pot Full of Catfish all at the same time. When I recovered enough to see what "hit me", I found that I had been terribly shot by a measly skunk square in both eyes. Bill was grinning and asking "if it hurt much" and telling me that I could see better after a little and lots of other sympathetic nothings. I hope that none of you may ever have the experience that I met with by the treatment of that infernal skunk.

After the atmosphere and my eyes had cleared somewhat, we went on and looked after the balance of the traps on the run. We then started out to hunt deer, Bill taking one side of the ridge and I the other. I saw nothing more of Bill until I reached camp long after dark. I worked along the different spires of the main ridge and through the heads of the different basins, and only got a glimpse of an old buck's tail, making over the ridge and beckoning me to come on. He had come over from the opposite side of the ridge and had got wind of me before he was fairly in sight. I kept on working the different points and basins, shaping my course as best I could in the direction of the camp.

A drizzling rain kept up all day, and deer had not moved very much. I felt confident that towards evening the deer would come out in the open to feed in spite of the rain, and pretty well toward night I had the satisfaction of seeing three deer feeding along the hillside and coming in my direction.

The wind was in my favor, and as the deer were rather too far to shoot, I stood quiet, only occasionally moving from one tree to another as a favorable opportunity occurred. The deer finally worked up in gun shot, and they proved to be an old doe, a yearling and the doe's fawn. The yearling was undoubtedly the doe's fawn of the year before. I was very careful to make a sure shot on the doe. The yearling and the fawn only took a few jumps when the gun cracked and the doe went down, and stood looking at the old lady to see what had happened to her. I gave the yearling the contents of the other barrel. He made a jump or two and went down, the fawn still standing and wondering what was taking place, but before I could get a load into my gun, the little fellow thought it best to move on.

I took the entrails out of the two I had shot, hung them up and took a lively pace to camp. Bill was already in and had supper waiting.

Bill asked me if I had seen any deer, and when I told him what I had done, he said that he had seen a deer. I told him that if he had used a little skunk eye-opener, he probably would have seen some deer.

As it had now been three or four days since we had made the rounds of the bear traps, we concluded that we would not spend any particular time in deer hunting until we had looked all of the bear traps over.

We were quite sure that some of the traps would be likely to be in a mixup with bruin as the weather had been favorable for bruin to be prowling around. Further we had seen several fresh tracks in the past few days. Early in the morning with an extra lunch in our knapsack we started out to see what luck with bruin, each taking a different route.

Bill went to Baley Run, while I went to Conley Run. I had not gone far out on my road, when I came across a man that had been out as he said, hunting deer. But from the story he told, I judged that he had put in the greater part of his time hunting himself, and he was still lost.

The man informed me that he was from Lockhaven, Pa., and that his name was Henry Jacobs; and that he was boarding at a farmhouse on the Portage but had gotten a little mixed and was unable to find his way out to his boarding place. I told him that I was on my way to the Conley waters to look after some bear traps, and if he wished he could go with me to the main branch of the Conley. Then he could follow the stream down until it emptied into the Portage, and to the road which would take him to his boarding house, which Mr. Jacobs seemed pleased to do. But it proved that Mr. Jacobs' destiny was in other directions.

The first bear trap that we came to, we found a "porky" in it. I could see that Mr. Jacobs was very much excited and began to ask many questions as to bears and bear trapping. When we came to where the second trap was setting, we found things generally torn up and the trap gone, and it was plain to be seen that it was no cub that had taken the trap this time. The bear had gone only a few yards, when he had gotten fast in some saplings, and he had gnawed the brush and raked the trees and "raised Ned" generally; but had finally released the clog and had gone on down the hillside.

By this time I had discovered that Mr. Jacobs had become pretty nervous and was shaking rather too much to do good shooting. At every rod we advanced along the trail, it was plain to be seen that Mr.

Jacobs was becoming more and more excited. We did not follow the trail far when we discovered Bruin fast again. We went up within a few yards of the bear, who did not seem to like our company and would chank his jaws and snort similar to an angry hog.

I told Mr. Jacobs to shoot the bear, and he did shoot somewhere, but I could not say that he shot in the direction of the bear. As my attention had been on the bear, I had not noticed Mr. Jacobs in particular, but when I saw that he had entirely missed the bear, I looked at him and he was shaking so from excitement, that he could not have hit a barn, and drops of sweat stood all over his forehead.

He had a double barrel rifle, and as soon as he fired the first shot, he advanced a few steps toward the bear and fired again, and at once began to reload his gun, all the time going nearer to the bear until I was afraid that he would get so close that the bear could reach him. I had to caution him and tell him to step back, that he was getting too close.

When Mr. Jacobs had one barrel of his gun loaded, he immediately fired again, with the same results of the other two shots. I told him to take my gun and try it, which he did with no better results. Mr.

Jacobs was all the time becoming more and more excited, and the sweat was running off him like a man in the harvest field. I loaded my gun, while Mr. Jacobs was loading his, and after Mr. Jacobs fired another shot with no better results, I though that the fun had gone far enough, and shot the bear.

After the bear was dead, Mr. Jacobs wondered why it was so hard to hit a bear's head. "Just look at it," he said, "it is as large as a dry goods box". As soon as the bear was dead, Mr. Jacobs wanted to know if I would sell the bear. When I told him that I expected to sell it, he asked what it was worth. I told him that I thought the hide and meat would bring thirty or thirty-five dollars. He drew out his purse and said, "I will take it." I told him that if he wanted the bear, that we would call it twenty-five dollars, as he should have something for his part in the game. He declared that the hunt had been worth a hundred dollars to him.

We made a sort of a litter or drag rack with which we managed to haul the bear down the hill to an old lumber road where it could be reached with a team.

Not long after this I received a copy of the Williamsport Sun containing the report of a monstrous bear captured by Mr. Jacobs in the wilds of Cameron County. It was a bear story equal to the one the prophet relates when the children called him Baldy.

When I got to camp I found Bill stretching a couple of mink skins. He had also got a fox or two, and said that a bear had been in one of the bear traps, but had escaped, leaving two toes in the trap. Bill was considerably down at the heel over the escape of the bear, and said that if he had attended to the trap the day before, that the bear was then in the trap; that he had put up a hard fight before he had made his escape.

When Bill called for my report I took out a marten skin and the money that I got for the bear and layed them on the table and told Bill there was my count. Bill said that I got the marten from one of the deadfalls, but he was dog-on sorry if he could tell where I caught the money. When I told him about Mr. Jacobs and the capture of the bear, Bill said he would have given a summer's work to have been there and seen the man sweat.

I said that I would relate how it happened that I got even with Bill for the bear that he killed on my watching grounds.

Well, after we had gone the rounds of the traps, we again put in our time still-hunting. Bill had gone south of camp, while I went east. I had traveled until the middle of the afternoon without having any luck or seeing any deer. So I shifted my course to the west and worked my way in the direction of a "burn-down" that was in the head of a hollow. As soon as I came to the brow of the ridge and looked down into the basin I saw four deer feeding and working towards me.

The wind was blowing directly from the deer towards me, so I stood quiet and in a few minutes the deer fed up within easy range. I pulled the gun onto an old doe in the lead, and broke her down almost in her tracks. The three remaining deer made a few jumps in my direction and stopped and looked back, which gave me a good shot at a yearling buck, which also went down in my sight. The other two deer ran close by me and over the ridge into the green timber. I had hardly cut the deers' throats when Bill called out, "This is a dog-on pretty trick that you have played me."

Bill had been following these deer all day and had followed to the "burn-down" and had seen the deer on the opposite hill, but too far away to shoot. As the wind was against him he had dropped down the hollow a ways, crossed and worked up around on the opposite side to get the wind in his favor, and was just about ready to fire on the deer when I began shooting. After Bill had explained how he had been working the deer all day and then have me slip in just as he had the game bagged and swipe it, Bill claimed was dog-on mean. I cautioned Bill to hold his temper and I would call it even on the bear he swiped from me, and told him I was pleased to have him on hand to help hang up the deer.

We had worked along now up to about the middle of December with the various ups and downs that one on the trap line and trail always meet with. We had killed twelve or fourteen deer, and I think we had caught six bears and had made a fair catch of fox, mink, marten and some other furs. There had not been much snow up to this time, when a fall of 12 or 14 inches came all in one night. Bears had not denned up to this time, but we were quite sure that bruin would now go into winter quarters. We concluded to gather up the bear traps and all the small traps that were not setting in springs that did not freeze, or those setting in other likely places to make a catch. In nearly the last bear trap that we went to get, we found a bear, and when we began to skin it we found that it had lost two toes on one forefoot.

We concluded that it was the same bear that had escaped from Bill's trap some time before, although it was eight or ten miles from where the trap was that had held Bruin's toes.

A day or two after the heavy fall of snow we got a letter from a man by the name of Comstock, living at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, asking the privilege to come and camp with us and hunt deer until the season closed, the first of January. He stated that he had never killed a deer, and that he was very anxious to kill one. We wrote him to come on, and that one of us would be at Emporium on the following Friday to guide him to our camp. Friday morning I went to Emporium and found Mr. Comstock there as agreed. He had paraphernalia enough to equip a fair-sized army, so we hired a team to take the outfit to camp and also bring out the saddles of a bear and what venison we had on hand.

For three or four days Mr. Comstock hunted all by himself but had no luck in the way of killing deer, as he said it took more time to hunt the shanty than he had to hunt deer, and suggested that we all hunt in company. We had now been on the ground long enough so that we had learned all the runways. Bill said that if I would take Mr. Comstock down to a certain runway, which he had given the name of Fork Point, and place him on it, he would drive the ridge and see if he could not drive a deer to Mr. Comstock.

Bill started a bunch of five deer and succeeded in getting a shot and breaking a foreleg of a large doe. As the doe with the broken leg soon dropped out from the other deer, he was sure that the deer had start enough so that they would come through to where Comstock and I were watching, he decided to take the trail of the broken legged doe, and as good luck, the deer did come through to Mr. Comstock, and as he had an Osgood gun with four shots, he succeeded in killing a very large buck. After firing the four shots, the fun began.

Mr. Comstock was determined to take the buck to camp, as he wanted to take the deer home whole. We had a very steep point to climb for a distance of five hundred yards to reach the top of the ridge. The deer weighed about two hundred pounds. Any hunter will tell you what an awkward job it is to carry a deer of that weight lashed to a pole.

Mr. Comstock would not consent to drawing the deer for fear it would rake the hair off. Well, we could not carry it up the steep point on the pole, as the swaying of the deer would throw us off our feet. Mr.

Comstock said that he would carry it alone if I would help him get it on his shoulder. Mr. Comstock was a large man, weighing over two hundred pounds, but nevertheless I did not think he would be able to carry the deer and told him so. After some hard tugging we got the deer on his shoulder and he started up the hill. I started to get out of the way, and I was none too soon in doing so. Mr. Comstock had not taken a half dozen steps when back he came, deer and all, like ten thousand bricks. But as he did not break any limbs or his neck, he was bound to try it again, which he did with the same result. But this time he was quite badly bruised, and he was now satisfied to leave the deer until morning, when Bill went with us and we made a sort of a litter and carried it to camp whole; and he was a proud and happy man. When Mr. Comstock and I left the deer and decided to await reinforcements, we struck the trail of Bill, drawing a deer in the direction of camp, so we now knew why Bill had not followed the trail of the deer through to where Comstock and I were watching.

It was now about the closing time for deer hunting, so after Mr.

Comstock had left for home, Bill and I put in the time until the first of March tending the small traps with the usual success of the average trapper, getting a fox, or mink or marten or some piece of fur nearly every day.

When the team which we had written home for came and got our camp outfit and our furs, we broke camp and went home to await another trapping season.

CHAPTER XV.

Trapping and Bee Hunting.

Comrades of the trap line and trail, as every trapper and hunter likes to know what other trappers and hunters are doing, I will tell of some of my last season's (1908) doings. Having been somewhat relieved from my old enemy--rheumatism--I concluded to take a trip south and see if I could not find a place suitable to my liking where I might escape some of the rigorous cold of the Northern Pennsylvania winters.

I went first into Southeastern Missouri. Here I found land cheap, unimproved lands ranging from $3.00 to $15.00 per acre; also plenty of timber for fuel and building purposes; plenty of fish of various kinds, some deer, a few wild turkeys, no bear, some mink, plenty of racc.o.o.n, a few otter and fox; with minor other fur-bearers, which was all quite satisfactory to me, but I did not like the water.

From Poplar Bluff, Missouri, I went to Kenset, Arkansas, where I found the conditions as to the price of lands satisfactory, although the country was much less broken than Southern Missouri. As to water, well, there was water almost anywhere; in fact, you could hardly cross the streets without wading in water. The people who were natives of that country informed me that the water in the streets was not always so plenty, as they said that there had been very heavy rains of late. Here I found game of all kinds quite scarce, although I was told that southeast of Kenset game was quite plenty, including bear, deer, turkeys, quail, etc., and that mink, otter, c.o.o.n, opossum, also a few wolves, were to be found. The water gave me the chills in three days, so I concluded to move to other parts of the lower St. Francis River, in Lee County. There appeared to be quite a plenty of mink, otter, c.o.o.n and some bear, but the cane brakes were pretty thick in the bottoms.

I think that if one was well prepared for trapping, they could do fairly well in either St. Francis or Lee County. I went from Hanes in Lee County, Arkansas, to Memphis, Tennessee. From Memphis I went to a town by the name of Shepard, on the Hatchie River, in Haywood County, Tennessee. Along the Hatchie River there were signs of otter, mink and c.o.o.n quite plenty, and in some places the cane brakes were quite open. I liked the lay of the land here very well. It was just rolling enough to suit my fancy, but again I failed to find our cold, Pennsylvania spring water. From Shepard I went to Pickens, in Pickens County, South Carolina. Here I found fairly good water, but other conditions were not entirely to my liking.

While I did not have time to look up the game or rather the fur-bearers as thoroughly as I would have liked to, yet I saw considerable signs of mink and c.o.o.n and was told that there were quite a number of otter in that section on some of the streams. From Pickens I bought a ticket to Columbus, Ohio, where I intended to stop over a day and call on the editor of the greatest of sporting magazines, _Hunter-Trader-Trapper,_ but when I got to Columbus my courage failed. I was afraid that the editor would be too busy pushing the quill to bother with a lone trapper, so concluded to hasten back to old Potter, where chills, jiggers, ticks, fleas and poisonous snakes are unknown, and where the cold, sparkling spring water flows from the mountain side to your very door. Say, boys, you may think that I am stuck on the water question. Well, I am, and I have good cause to me. Only for spring water, I should not have been able to have made the journey which I am writing of.

For the past two years, barring the time I was south, I have drank from four to six quarts of cold spring water every twenty-four hours.

I have got more relief from rheumatism than I ever did from all the rheumatism remedies that I ever knew of, and I have tried the most of them. I used all the salt in my food that I could to aid the desire for water, and took six drops of oil of wintergreen three times a day. Now, if any of the old trappers have rheumatism and the good spring water, I ask you to try it.

Well, after getting back home and resting a few days and the frost began to hit the pumpkin vine, I began to feel as I imagined that the wild goose does about their migratory time. At least I felt as though I should fly if I did not get into the woods. We were having splendid weather for camping, and the warm, dry, sunny days afforded splendid weather for bee hunting, and after the trap and gun then my delight is to trail the honey bee to his den tree.