HUNTING BY TORCH LIGHT--AN INCOMPETENT JUDGE--A NEW
SOUND IN THE FOREST--OLD SANGAMO'S DONKEY.
Spalding and Martin went out upon the lake after dark, with one of the
boats, to hunt by torch light. This is done by placing a lighted
torch, or a lamp upon a standard, placed upright in the bow of the
boat, and so high that a man seated or lying upon the bottom of the
craft, will have his head below it. He must himself be in someway
shaded from the light, which must be cast forward so that both the
hunter and the boatman will be in the shadow. A very common method is
to make a box, a foot or less square, open, or with a pane of glass on
one side; a stick three or four feet long is run through an auger hole
in the top and bottom, and wedged fast, which forms a standard; the
other end of the stick is run through a hole on the little deck on the
forward part of the boat, and placed in a socket formed for the
purpose in the bottom, and is wedged at the deck, so as to make it
steady. The open or glass front of the box is turned forward, and a
common japan lamp placed in a socket prepared for it in the box. This
of course throws the light forward, while the occupants of the boat
are in the shadow. The hunter sits, or more commonly lies at length on
a bed of boughs in the bottom of the boat, with his rifle so far in
front that the light will fall upon the forward sight. An experienced
boatman will paddle silently up to within twenty feet of a deer that
may be feeding along the shore. The stupid animal will stand, gazing
in astonishment at the light, until the boat almost touches him.
"That Hank Martin," said Cullen, one of the boatmen, as the hunters
disappeared into the darkness, "is a queer boy in his way. You will
notice that when he straightens up, and takes the kinks out of him, he
stands six feet and over in his stockings, and his arms hang down to
his knees. He's the strongest man in these woods, and tolerably active
when there's occasion for it. He is a droll, good-natured, easy
tempered chap, and don't get angry at trifles. He is fond of a joke
himself, and will stand having a good many sticks poked at him without
getting riled; but when he does get his back up, it's well enough to
stand out of his way, and not step on his shadow. He never struck a
man but once in real earnest, and that was over in Keeseville, and on
that occasion the people said the town clock had struck _one_. The
fellow he struck went eend over eend, and then went down, and when he
went down he laid still--he didn't come to tine.
"But what I was going to tell you is, that Hank and I were down at
Plattsburgh last fall, and a big fellow who had taken quite as much
red eye as was for his good, undertook to pick a quarrel with Hank and
give him a beating. Hank, as I said, being a peaceable man, and much
more given to fun than to fighting, kept good-natured, and avoided a
scrimmage as long as he could. But his patience and his temper at last
caved in, and seizing his opponent by the neck with his left hand, and
thrusting him down upon the ground, he began very deliberately to cuff
him with his right, in a way that seemed anything but pleasant to the
individual upon whom his cuffs were bestowed. 'Enough! enough!' cried
his assailant. 'Let up! enough! enough!' 'Hold your tongue, you
scoundrel!' replied Hank, as he kept on pommeling his enemy, 'hold
your tongue, I tell you! You ain't a judge of these things! I'll let
you know when you've got enough.' When he'd given him what he thought
was about right, he lifted him on to his feet, and, holding him up
face to face with himself a moment, 'There,' said he, 'look at me
well, so that you'll know me when I come this way again; and when you
see my trail, you'd better travel some other road.'"
"Speaking of Plattsburgh," said the Doctor, "reminds me of an incident
which occurred to a friend and myself, over in the Chataugay woods,
between the Chazy and the Upper Chataugay lakes. I was spending a few
days at Plattsburgh, and hearing a good deal of the trout and deer in
and about those lakes, my friend and myself concluded to pay them a
flying visit. On the banks of the Chazy and near the outlet, a
half-breed, that is, half French and half Indian, had built him a log
cabin, and cleared about an acre of land around it. His live stock
consisted of two homely, lean, and half-starved dogs, and as ragged
and ill-looking a donkey as could be found in a week's travel. The
half-breed was a sort of half fisherman and half hunter, excelling in
nothing, unless it be that he was the laziest man this side of the
Rocky Mountains. He succeeded, occasionally, in killing a deer in the
forest, and when he did so, he would lead his donkey to the place of
slaughter, and bring in the carcase on the long-eared animal's back.
"We were passing from the Chazy to Bradley's Lake, and had sat down on
the trunk of a fallen tree to take a short breathing spell. It was a
warm afternoon, and the air was calm; not a breath stirred the leaves
on the old trees around us; the forest sounds were hushed, save the
tap of the woodpecker on his hollow tree, or an occasional drumming of
a partridge on his log. It was drawing towards one of those calm,
still, autumnal evenings of which poets sing, but which are to be met
with in all their glory only among the beautiful lakes that lay
sleeping in the wild woods, and surrounded by old primeval things. The
path wound round a densely wooded and sombre hollow, the depths of
which the eye could not penetrate, but from out of which came the song
of a stream that went cascading down the rocks, and rippling among the
loose boulders that lay in its course. Beyond us, through an opening
in the trees, we could see the lake, sparkling and shining in the
evening sunbeams, and we were talking about the beauty of the view,
and the calmness and repose that seemed resting upon all things, when,
of a sudden, there came up from that shadowy dell a sound, the most
unearthly that ever broke upon the astonished ear of mortal man. I
have heard the roar of the lion of the desert, the yell of the hyena,
the trumpeting of the elephant, the scream of the panther, the howl of
the wolf. It was like none of these; but if you could imagine them all
combined, and concentrated into a single sound, and ushered together
upon the air from a single throat, shaped like the long neck of some
gigantic ichthiosaurus of the times of old, you would have some faint
idea of the strange sounds that came roaring up from that hollow way.
My friend was a man of courage, and, like myself, had been around the
world some; had spent a good deal of time, first and last, in the
woods, was familiar with most of the legitimate forest sounds, and had
heard all the ten thousand voices that belong in the wilderness, but
we had never before listened to a noise like that.
"We looked to our rifles and at one another, and it may well be that
our hats sat somewhat loosely upon our heads, from an involuntary
rising of the hair. 'What, in the name of all that is mysterious,'
cried my friend, in amazement, 'is that?' 'It is more than I know,' I
replied, as I placed a fresh cap on my rifle. After a few minutes, the
sounds were repeated, and the hills seemed to groan with affright as
they sent them back in wavy and quavering echoes from their rugged
sides.
"'We must understand this,' said my friend, as he led the way with a
cautious and stealthy movement towards the depths of the hollow, whence
the sounds came, and there, by the stream, on a little sand-bar, stood
old Sangamo's donkey, by the side of a deer. Old Sangamo himself was
stretched at full length on the bank, fast asleep. How he could have
slept on, with such an infernal roaring as that donkey made in those
old woods, six or eight miles outside of a fence, is more than I can
comprehend. But he did sleep through it all, and was wakened only by
a punch in the ribs with the butt of my rifle, instigated by pity for
the poor donkey that was being eaten up by the flies. We helped him
to load the carcass of the deer on the back of his donkey, and saw
him move off lazily towards home. I have heard a good many strange
noises in my day, but never, on any other occasion, have I listened
to anything to be at all compared with the noise made by the braying
of old Sangamo's donkey in the Chataugay woods."
As the Doctor concluded his story, the sharp crack of Spalding's rifle
broke the stillness of the night, and went reverberating among the
hills, and dying away over the lake. It was but a short distance from
our camp, in a little bay hidden away around a wooded promontory below
us. In a few minutes, the light was seen, rounding the point that hid
the bay from our view, and, as the boat landed in front of our tents,
Spalding and Martin lifted from it a fine two year old deer, shot
directly between the eyes.
[Illustration: How he could have slept on, with such an infernal
roaring as that donkey made in those old woods, six or eight miles
outside of a fence, is more than I can comprehend.--]
"There," said Spalding, "is the biggest, or what _was_ the biggest
fool of a deer in these woods. Do you believe that he stood perfectly
still, gazing in stupid astonishment at our light, until we were
within a dozen feet of him, when I dropped him with that ball between
the eyes?"
"No," replied Smith, "I really don't believe any such thing."
"It is true, notwithstanding your lack of faith," said Spalding.
"Do you say that as counsel, or as a gentleman?" inquired Smith.
"Look you, Mr. Smith," said Spalding, "you are drawing a distinction
not warranted by the authority of the books--as if a lawyer could not
tell the truth like a gentleman. I say it as both."
"Very well," remarked Smith, "then I must believe it, of course. But
understand, Hank Martin, it will be my turn to-morrow night." And so
the matter was settled that the next night hunting was to be done
by Smith.
"H----," said the Doctor, as I was stealing quietly out of the tent,
in the twilight of the next morning, so as not to awaken my
companions, "where now?"
"I'm going to take some trout for breakfast, with our venison," I
replied.
"And where do you propose to take them?" he inquired. "Come with me,
and I'll show you. I looked the place out last evening, and if you've
done sleeping, we'll have some sport."
"Agreed," said he, and we paddled around the point into a little bay,
at the head of which a small, but cold stream entered the lake. The
Doctor sat in the bow, and, having adjusted his rod, I steered the
boat carefully, close along the shore, to within reach of the mouth of
the brook, and directed him to cast across it. The moment his fly
touched the water, half a dozen fish rose to it together. It was
eagerly seized by one weighing less than a quarter of a pound, which
was lifted bodily into the boat. He caught as fast as he could cast
his fly. They were the genuine brook trout, none of them exceeding a
quarter Of a pound in weight. In half an hour, we had secured as many
as we needed for breakfast, and paddled back to take a morning nap
while the meal was being prepared.
The sweetest fish that swims is the brook trout, weighing from a
quarter of a pound down. Rolled in flour, or meal, and fried brown,
they have no equal. The lake and river trout, weighing from two to ten
pounds, beautiful as they are, have not that delicacy of flavor which
belongs to the genuine brook trout. Boiled, when freshly caught, they
are by no means to be spoken lightly of. They have few equals, cooked
in that way, but as a pan fish, they are not to be compared with the
genuine brook trout.