CHAPTER XIV

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Hunting and Trapping in Cameron County.

It will be remembered that when Mr. Earl (or Bill, as I preferred to call him,) and the writer followed the bear from the Kinzua in McKene County, through Cameron County, that we saw signs of bear, deer, marten and other game quite plentiful in the region of Baley Run, Salt Run and Hunt's Run, and that we concluded to pitch our camp in that quarter. As there were no huckleberries in the vicinity of our homes, we decided to kill two birds with one stone, that was to pick some huckleberries and build our camp for the next season's hunt.

Accordingly about the last days of July, we took a team and our outfit for camp building and started for Hunt's Run by way of the Sinnamahoning and Baley Run. At this time the country in that section was an unbroken forest of pine, oak and hemlock with a goon sprinkling of chestnut. As the saying was in those days, "God owned the land in that section," so all we had to do was to go into the woods, select our camp site and proceed to build. (Boys, let me stop long enough to say it is different nowadays; you must go through a whole lot of red tape and get a permit to camp and the permit only lasts two weeks, when you must get a renewal.)

The site we selected for our camp was on the left-hand branch of Hunt's Run. We rolled up the usual box log body, about 10 x 14 feet. We put up a bridge roof, putting up about four pairs of rafters and then using three or four small cross poles for roof boards. We then peeled hemlock bark, making the pieces about four feet long, which we used for shingles to cover the roof with. After the roof was completed, we felled a chestnut tree which we split into spaults about four feet long. With these we chinked all the cracks between the logs, striking the axe into the logs, close to the edge of the chinking and then driving a small wedge in the slot made by the axe to hold the chinking in place.

Next we gathered moss from old fallen trees and stuffed all the cracks, using a blunt wedge to press the moss good and tight. We then begun on the mason work. We found a bank of clay that was rather free of stones and made a mortar by using water, making the mortar about as stiff as mortar usually used in house plastering. The chinking and mossing had been done from the inside, while we now filled the space between the logs good and full of mortar, or rather mud.

The next work was to take the team and haul stones, which we found along the run and put up the fireplace. Considerable pains was taken and we done a pretty good job, as we hoped to use this camp for a number of seasons. After the fireplace was completed, we hung a door, using hinges made of blocks of wood and boring auger holes through one end. Shaping the other end on two of these eyes to drive in two holes boring into the logs close to the door jams. The other two eyes were flattened off and made long enough for door cleats as well as to form a part of the door hinge. Now a rod was run through these eyes or holes in these pieces. This formed a good, solid door hinge. Then a door latch was made from a slat of wood, which worked on a pin in a hole bored in one end of the slat and a hole bored through the door. A small hole in the slat and a string tied to latch and run through a hole in the door furnished the means of raising the latch. A loop for the latch to work in and a catch on the door jam and the door was complete.

We next put in the window and made a bunk or bedstead from small poles and the hut was completed. I think we were about four days doing the work including an hour or so each day spent in picking huckleberries enough for our special need. Now as the camp was completed, we began to search for a place where we could find berries more plentiful than we had found them near camp. On the hillsides facing the river, where there were barrens, we found more.

While searching for huckleberries we found a deerlick or salt log, which the deer were working good. Bill said he guessed we had better appropriate the loan of the lick for one night to our own use, and see if we could not get some venison to take home with us as well as huckleberries.

When the sun was about an hour high, we took our guns and went to the salt log. There was no blind made to get in to watch them. We selected two jack pines that stood near together and we each climbed into a tree, breaking some of the boughs out that obstructed our view in the direction of the lick and laid the boughs across some limbs to sit on. We had scarcely got our seats fixed when I heard the crack of a limb off to our left. I whispered to Bill and pointed in the direction I had heard the breaking of the limb. Bill shook his head, to indicate that he had not heard anything, but had hardly done so when I saw Bill begin to cautiously shift his gun from the way it was pointed and slowly move it so as to shoot to his left. When he had the gun worked around so it pointed in the direction in which he wanted it, he began to raise it slowly to his shoulder. I thought to myself, that means venison for breakfast. I thought right, for when Bill touched the trigger and his gun spoke, I saw two yearling deer jump into sight and my gun came to my shoulder from habit, but there was no need to shoot.

The second jump that the deer made one of them fell dead, the other one ran a few rods, stopped and looked back to see what had become of his mate. Bill's gun came to his shoulder like a flash, but I hollowed, "Don't shoot." Bill dropped his gun and said, I came dog-on-nigh making a fool of myself. We got down from our perches and dragged the deer (a yearling buck) out away from the lick, removed the entrails and Bill made a knapsack of the carcass and started for camp.

The sun could still be seen shining on the highest peaks of the hills. Bill said, "That fun was over with too quick; I had one of the most comfortable seats I ever had. I had no time to enjoy it, when you called my attention to those little bucks and spoiled all my comfort." We got to camp before dark and stripped the skin from the deer, spread it out, cut all the meat from the bones, layed it on the skin, sprinkled some salt over it, then wrapped the meat up in the skin, saving out a few choice pieces to frizzle over the coals and eat with our lunch before bunking in for the night.

We had seen some parties, while picking berries during the day. They told us that there was a man by the name of Sage living down on the river near Emporium, who had a large clearing on the hill only about a mile from where we were, or about two miles from our camp. He told us in which direction we would find the field, and said that we would find Mr. Sage there, as he was up there cutting oats. As the grub stake for the horses was getting rather low, and as we were not yet ready to go home, Bill said that if I would stay and jerk the venison (for here we cannot keep venison by hanging it up in a tree, or on a pole, as you can on the Pacific Coast or in the Rockies), he would go and see Mr. Sage.

In the morning I began preparation to jerk the venison, while Bill went in search of grub for the horses. There was no road, but there was but very little down timber in the woods in those days, only occasionally a wind jam, which you had to work your way around. Bill found the clearing all right, and got oats in the bundle for the horses. Bill also made arrangements with Mr. Sage to bury eight bushels of potatoes and leave them on the hill where we could get them as we wished. Bill also killed a large rattlesnake on his way to the field, which he brought to camp, where we skinned and took out the oil. When we were skinning the snake Bill remarked, "that he thought the fur rather light on the varmint, but it was a pretty cuss." Let me say that at our place on the head waters of the Allegheny we had no eels, rattlesnakes or wartelberries, so we concluded that we would stop one night on the Sinnamahoning and get some eels to take home with us.

While Bill was gone for horse feed I was busy jerking the venison. I gathered a good hill of dry hemlock bark from the logs, burned it to a good pile of live coals. I now made a rack or gridiron by driving four crotched stakes in the ground about the embers and then laid small poles across in the crotches to form a rack to spread the venison on over the coals. I stood hemlock bark up about the rack, freshly peeled from the tree and covering the top over also with bark, which forms an oven. It is necessary to remove the top or cover occasionally and turn the meat, and say, boys, next June when you are out camping just kill a small deer and prepare the meat as described. Is it good? I guess yes.

Having our work completed at the camp, the next morning after we had got the horses fed and the venison prepared, we drove back onto Baleys Run. Here we camped near the mouth of the run, and that night we set fifty eel hooks, some in the run and some in the main Sinnamahoning. I think that we caught twenty-two eels and some trout. As we were now in a section where there were some barrens, which contained good huckleberry picking, we put in the next day picking berries until near night, and drove home at night, a distance of about twenty miles. All the time while picking berries, setting eel hooks and trout fishing, of which we did enough to supply our needs, we kept a close watch for signs of animals that we intended to take in later on.

We saw signs of mink, coon and where an otter had been at play on a steep bank of the run. We saw signs of bear in several places where they had torn old logs to pieces in search of grub and ants. We saw at one place where a bear had dug out a woodchuck, and I should judge by the amount of digging he had done that he earned his chuck. We saw considerable signs of bear in the huckleberries, and of them will have more to say later on.

* * *

About October first, Bill and your humble servant again started for camp, which we found all right. From all appearances it had been occupied for several days by someone, probably berry pickers, and as usual they had burned up what wood we had cut. Bill made a little kick, and said they were welcome to the camp, but he would be "dog-on" pleased if they would cut what wood they burned. Our first week in camp was spent in cutting a good supply of wood and mudding the shack a little in places where we failed to do good work the first time.

Being located well up at the head of the streams, it made it necessary for us to do a good deal of traveling to get from one stream to another where the water was of sufficient size to afford good trapping ground. Steel traps being none too plenty with us now, we started in to build deadfalls. The territory so far as trapping was concerned was left to Bill and I, and we took in the waters of Baley Run, the Portage, Conley Run and Hunt's Run, as well as several lesser streams. As the Baley was the farthest from our camp, Bill said we would put up the traps on that stream first. Bill said that we would go at it man fashion, for we would be compelled to get our grub from the trap line, for there was no chance to take a wood job in that section of the country. I suggested that we might get a job at the lumber camp, where we sold the deer the year before, and get a few beans and a little pork. I guess that Bill did not like the idea, for I remember he only gave me a grunt for an answer.

Say, boys, the question of pork and beans leads me to ask how many of you who have a fireplace in your camp have a bean hole? Now, Bill and I had one in our camp, and I tell you we thought it fine and we did it in this way. We dug a hole in one corner of the fireplace about two and a half feet deep and about eighteen inches in diameter, using the regular old style of bake kettle. This is merely an iron pot, with a close fitting flange lid so as to seclude all dust and ashes, and we used it in this way. We would first rake a good lot of live coals from the fireplace into the bean hole, having the beans already in the kettle. Then we would put the kettle down in the hole and rake the hole full of live embers, being careful to cover the hole over with plenty of ashes.

We prepared the beans about in this fashion: After washing we soaked them for about twelve hours. The water was drained off and the beans were then put into the kettle with the necessary trimmings, which consisted of a good chunk of pork put in the center of the beans, and two or three smaller pieces laid on top, a pinch of salt providing that the pork was not sufficiently salty. A spoonful of brown sugar or rather a little baking molasses and a little pepper. Now this kettle was allowed to remain three or four days in the hole without disturbing farther than to cover over occasionally with hot embers. You ask if beans are good baked this way--we guess yes. We have heard a great deal about the famous Boston baked beans, but we wish to say that they are not in it compared to beans baked in a bean hole.

Well, to get back to the trap line. We took the Baley waters first. This was about six miles from camp, and as it was still a little earlier in the season than we cared to begin to take fur, we would build the deadfalls and have them ready to set when we thought that fur was ripe enough to begin to gather. Bill used a good heavy axe, and would cut the dead pole and bed pieces and the stakes and fit them all ready to put up. He would then go on and select a place to build another trap and get the material all ready as before and then move on to the next place. I would follow him up and build the trap, make the bait pen and have the trap all ready to set when the right time came. The triggers we would make evenings in camp. We always used the three-stick trigger, for then we could adjust the trigger so that we were sure that the front legs of the animal were over the bed piece, when the trap was sprung. In that condition there was not get-away for the animal that tried to snip the bait. We would build traps on one stream until we had a plenty for that stream. We would take up another and put in a supply on that stream, and so on until we had gone over as much ground as we could work to good advantage.

All the time we were putting up these deadfalls we were keeping a watch out for likely places to set our steel traps for fox and other animals. After we had gone over the streams we built the necessary deadfalls in the dark, heavy timbered sections where we thought likely that there might be marten. As it was now well along toward the last of October, we set our bear traps on the different ridges in the sections where the chestnut timber was the most plenty. The chestnut crop was good and we knew that the first hard freeze would open the burs. Bill said we got to get a move on us from early in the morning until after dark when we would get into camp. We wished to get all the traps out now that we could. Later we were going to put in some time gathering chestnuts, as soon as they began to fall, as there was good money in gathering them. At this business there was lively competition with the squirrels, coons, bears and other animals to see which could gather the most, so naturally there is but a few days good picking after the chestnuts fall.

Bill said that we would be in a deal while the nuts lasted and we did, for we gathered several bushels. I do not just remember how many now, but that wasn't all we got while we were gathering chestnuts. One day we came to where a bear had been raking for nuts and as it was only about a mile from camp I said to Bill that it might be possible that if we would stay out and watch for Bruin as long as we could see to shoot, we might get a shot at the bear. Bill said that he preferred to let the traps do the watching. There was a little mist of rain falling, and just the right kind of weather for Bruin to be prowling around. Some way it seemed to me if we stayed and watched we would get a shot at a bear, but Bill had no faith and said that I would get good and wet for my trouble. I told him that if he would take what nuts I had gathered along to the shanty, I would stay and watch awhile at least. Bill agreed, and said that he would have a hot supper ready for me when I came to camp. I suggested to Bill that he have the frying pan hot when I got there, for I would bring in some bear meat for supper. Bill said that I need not bother to skin his, as he would eat his hair and all.

As soon as Bill was gone I selected a point where I could see down the hill, as well as over a good stretch of the top of the ridge. I had only fairly picked my ground to watch when I heard the brush crack close to me from behind. My gun came to my shoulder as I turned in the direction of the noise, and there stood Bill a-grinning. I asked him what had changed his mind. He said that if I could stand it he could, so he stepped along the ridge a few yards and I leaned up against a large hemlock tree. He had scarcely taken his stand when all of a sudden I saw him begin to slowly raise his gun to his shoulder. I knew that he was about to shoot at something, but thought it must be a deer. I thought that I ought to shout and scare it away, for I thought that Bill had come back on purpose to beat me out of the sport, and I guessed right. Bill said after he had started to camp it seemed to him that he had done wrong in leaving me to watch alone, and that I would kill a bear. So he turned back and got there just in time so as not to frighten the bear away, as well as to shoot it, which was a yearling and weighed about 125 pounds, with a fine pelt.

Bill apologized for the little trick. Said he would never do anything of the kind again. He never did. A good reason being that another opportunity never occurred. But later I will tell how I got the laugh on Bill. The next morning Bill took the saddles of the bear to Emporium and sold the meat, but he said that bear meat was not at a premium in Emporium. I think he got about $6.00 out of the saddles. While Bill was gone to Emporium I took two bear traps and went on to a ridge where I thought would be the most likely place to catch a bear, as there was considerable beach timber on that ridge in places. Beach nuts last long after chestnuts are gone, and bear would be likely to work in this timber. As we had not got all of our small traps out yet, Bill said that if I would finish setting the rest of the small traps, he would put in the most of his time hunting deer, as the leaves were now pretty well off from the undergrowth, so that the woods were now quite open. This I agreed to, as I knew Bill to be a good deer hunter, while I was a little skeptical as to some of his trapping methods.

Well, as the busy season was with us now, it was an early breakfast and a late supper day after day. Yet we were able to keep up the pace from the natural stimulating desire for sport, being anxious to know what the results of the next day would be. We were having the usual success of the average hunter and trapper who, as Bill said, if willing to get a move on, our supply of meat and game was never lacking, for I always shot at small game when hunting deer. Bill said that he did not like to come into camp empty handed, so he would shoot a grouse or a squirrel whenever a chance occurred. We had no snow up to this time, so that deer hunting was a little dull, and Bill said that he would take a line of traps, either on Baley Run or on the Conley, as I liked. I said, take your choice, Bill, so he said he would go to Conley Run, which was a little farther from camp than the Baley Run, and one or two more bear traps than on Baley Run.

I found a coon or two, and I think I got a fox and one marten, but no mink or other furs. I found that a bear had been to one trap and torn down the bait pen and taken the bait, but left the trap unsprung. I knew that he would cut the same trick again, if I set the trap there, so I bent over a small sapling and hung the carcass of a coon on it for a bait. The carcass hung four or five feet from the ground.

[Illustration: RESULTS OF A FEW WEEKS' TRAPPING.]

I set the trap under the carcass and said to myself, "Old fellow, when you take that coon, there will be a bear dance." I got to camp long after dark, but when I came in sight of camp and looked for a light, there was no light to be seen, or any Bill to be found in camp. I lit a light and looked at my watch. It was only a few minutes of eight o'clock. I got supper and waited until nine o'clock, but no Bill came, so I laid down on the bunk to rest, expecting Bill to turn up every minute.

I dropped to sleep and when I awoke, the fire had burned out and Bill had not returned. I looked at my watch. It was after three o'clock, and I knew that there would be no more sleep for me. I went outside and listened, but no sound could be heard. I got my breakfast, put an extra lunch in my knapsack, and sat down and waited for the break of day. As soon as the first streaks of light appeared in the east, I strapped on my knapsack, took my gun and started in the direction in which I had known Bill to take. I followed the ridge to the Conley Run waters, over which Bill would likely come if he had been detained in that region.

When I came to the head of a run that led to the main Conley waters, I stopped at the brow of the hill. I could look down into the hollow. Here I knew that I could be heard for some distance. I listened for some time to see if I could hear a gun shot or any other noise that would lead me to the whereabouts of Bill. Not a sound to be heard, not even the hoot of an owl. I gave a long whoop and then listened, but still no answering sound. I again gave a long continued "co-hoop" and Bill burst out laughing, and asked what was the matter with me. 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 carcass 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 coon 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 coon, 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 coon; 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 passed, I have often laughed over the circumstance. 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.

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