WOODCOCK AND BEAR TRAPS--HIS OWN MAKE.

Sometime early in the spring of 1903, a letter was received from a man in Pennsylvania and published in H-T-T, which a few weeks later brought to light one of the truest and best sportsmen that ever shouldered a gun, strung a snare or set a trap--E. N. Woodcock.

Some of the happenings are repeated and all dates may not be correct, for be it remembered that Mr. Woodcock has written all from memory. It is doubtful if he kept all copies of H-T-T, therefore was not sure if such and such incidents had been written before. In most cases these are somewhat different and as they all "fit in" we have used them as written and published from time to time.

Much information is also contained in the writings of Mr. Woodcock and whether you use gun, steel traps, deadfalls or snares, you will find something of value. The articles are also written in a style that impresses all of their truthfulness, but, so written that they are very interesting.

Those of our readers who have read his articles will be glad of this opportunity to get his writings in book form, while those that have only read a few of his more recent articles will be pleased to secure all.

Perhaps the following editorial which appeared in H-T-T will be in place here:

"Although crippled with rheumatism, there is an old hunter and trapper living in Potter County, Pa., whose enthusiasm is high and his greatest desire is still to get out over the trap lines a few seasons before the end of the "trail" of life's journey is reached. May that desire be fulfilled is the earnest wish of the H-T-T as well as thousands of our readers, who have read the writings of this kind-hearted and wide experienced hunter and trapper, as they have been penned from his home near the Allegheny Mountains.

It is with pleasure that we publish in this issue the "Autobiography of E. N. Woodcock as a Trapper." During his half century with trap and gun, he has had some narrow escapes and experiences, but not the many "hair-breadth escapes" that some claim, but which only occur on paper. Mr. Woodcock is a truthful man, and you can read his autobiography knowing that it is the truth even to the minutest detail."

The autobiography was written by Mr. Woodcock at the request of the Editor of Hunter-Trader-Trapper in the spring of 1908 and published July of the same year. We are glad to add that since that time, Mr. Woodcock has enjoyed several hunting and trapping expeditions. Some were in his home state--Pennsylvania--on same grounds, or at least near those he camped on many, many years ago. He also took a couple of trips into the south--fall of 1911 and 1912. He was in Tennessee, Alabama, Georgia and the Carolinas. An account of these hunts is given in Chapters XXX, XXXI and XXXII.

In May, 1912, the Editor of Hunter-Trader-Trapper visited Mr. Woodcock and family at their home some four miles from Coudersport, Pennsylvania. Mr. Woodcock, though physically not large, is a wonderful man in the "ways of the woods." He is not given to exaggeration or boasting like many a man who has followed the Trail and Trap Line. Every word that he says or writes can be put down as truthful beyond a doubt.

At this time, (May, 1912) he was afraid he would never be able to get out on the trap line again, as he was suffering from rheumatism and heart trouble. Towards fall he became better, and enjoyed the sport, which for more than fifty years has been his--may he be spared to enjoy many more.

By noting the dates as given in connection with various articles published, it will be seen that Mr. Woodcock shortly after 1900 began to point out the need of protection to game and fur animals. After a life on the trap and trail of more than fifty years, such advice should be far reaching. Mr. Woodcock is a man of unusual foresight and knowing that he is nearing the end of the trail, wishes to forcibly impress the needs of protection.

By referring to a good map, you will be able to see the location of many of Mr. Woodcock's hunting, camping and trapping trips, as he generally mentions State, County and Streams.

Very few men have had wider experience than Mr. Woodcock. He knows from more than a half century much of the habits and characteristics of animals. He gives his reasons why marten are plentiful in one section and are gone in a few days. His reason too, looks plausible. He describes trapping wolves in Upper Michigan about 1880, also beaver. Tells how he caught the "shadow of the forests" as wolves are often called by trappers--they are so hard to trap. By reading of his many experiences you will not only enjoy what he says, but will get facts about bear, deer, fox, wolves, mink, marten and other fur bearers that you had never thought of.

This man, while on the "trail" upwards of fifty years, so far as known never killed out of season or trapped unprime furs.

A WORD FROM MR. WOODCOCK.

The editor of HUNTER-TRADER-TRAPPER has requested a foreword of introductory to FIFTY YEARS A HUNTER AND TRAPPER OR EXPERIENCE OF E. N. WOODCOCK, saying that so many have enjoyed my articles, which have appeared from time to time in HUNTER-TRADER-TRAPPER, extending over a period of some ten years, 1903 to 1913, that same are to be published in book form.

I was born at Lymansville, Potter County, Pennsylvania, August 30, 1844. From early childhood, my nature led me to the Forests and Streams. I have hunted in many of the states of the Far West including the three Pacific States--California, Oregon and Washington. I killed my first panther or cougar in the mountains of Idaho on the headwaters of the Clearwater river. My first real experience in wolfing was in Southeastern Oregon. I met my greatest number of deer in Northwestern California.

I have trapped of late years, in nearly all of the states east of the Mississippi river and also on the White River of Arkansas; also trapped bear and other fur bearing animals and hunted deer in Northern Michigan, also forty years ago.

Another sport which I enjoyed was the "pigeon days." I have netted wild pigeons from the Adirondack Mountains in New York state to Indian Territory--now Oklahoma--trapping them in the states of Michigan, Indiana, Missouri, Pennsylvania and New York.

My nature led me to the Trail and Trap line from early childhood and I have trapped bear and hunted deer in the mountains of Pennsylvania for more than 50 years--half a century--and my picture with my two foxes on my shoulder shows me on the trap line for the season of 1912-13.

March 1, 1913.
E. N. WOODCOCK.

CHAPTER I.
Autobiography of E. N. Woodcock.

I was born on the 30th day of August, A. D. 1844, in a little village by the name of Lymansville, Potter County, Pennsylvania. Lymansville was named after my grandparent, Isaac Lyman, or better known as Major Lyman, having held office of that rank in the Revolutionary War. It is from this limb of the family that I inherited that uncontrollable desire for the trap, gun and the wild.

At a very early age it was my greatest delight to have all the mice, squirrels and groundhogs and in later years young raccoons, young fox and every other varmint or wild animal that I could catch or could get from other sources, and at times I had quite a menagerie.

I began trapping at a very early age, the same as many boys do who live out in the country where they have an opportunity. My father owned a grist mill and a sawmill. These mills were about one-half mile apart and it was about these mills and along the mill races and ponds of these mills that I set my first traps for muskrats, mink and coon. Before I was stout enough to set a trap which was strong enough to hold the varmint, it was necessary for me to get some older person to set the trap. I would take the trap to the intended place and set for the particular animals I was in quest of, whether mink, coon or rat.

In those days clearings were small, woods large and full of game. Deer could be seen in bunches every morning in the fields and it was not uncommon to see a bear's track near the house that had been made during the night. Wolves were not plenty though it was a common thing to see their tracks and sometimes hear them howl on the hills.

Like other boys who lead an outdoor life, I grew stronger each year and as I grew older and stronger my trap lines grew longer and my hunts took me farther into the woods. Finally as game became scarcer my hunts grew from a few hours in length to weeks and months camping in a cabin built in the woods in a section where game was plenty.

At the age of thirteen while out with a party of men on a hunting and fishing trip, I killed my first bear. While I had now been out each fall with my traps and gun, it was not until I was about eighteen years old that I took my first lesson from an old and experienced trapper, a man nearly eighty years old and a trapper and hunter from boyhood. The man's name was Aleck Harris. We made our camp in the extreme southeastern part of this (Potter) County in a section known as "The Black Forest" and it was here that I learned many things from an experienced trapper and hunter that served me well on the trap line and the trail, in the years that followed.

It was here that I made my first bed in a foot or more of snow with a fire against a fallen tree and a few boughs thrown on the ground for a bed. At other times perhaps a bear skin just removed from the bear for covering, or I might have no covering other than to remove my coat and spread it over me. This I have often done when belated on the trail so that I was unable to reach the cabin and was happy and contented.

It was here I first learned to do up the saddles or the carcass of a deer in the more convenient way to carry. It was here that I took my first practical lessons in skinning, stretching, curing and handling of skins and furs. I also learned many things of traps and trapping and to do away with sheath knives and other unnecessary burdens on the trap line. In my younger days I preferred to "go it alone" when in a country that I was familiar with and many a week I have spent in my cabin alone save for my faithful dog, but as I grew older and became afflicted with rheumatism I have found a partner more acceptable.

I have met with many queer circumstances while on the trap line and trail, yet I have never met with any of those bloodcurdling and hair-breadth escapes from wild animals which are mostly "pipe dreams". Perhaps the nearest I ever came to being seriously hurt by a wild animal was from a large buck deer. It was in November and on a stormy day. I had killed a doe and was in the act of dressing the doe and was leaning over the deer at work. I was within a few feet of a fallen tree. Hearing a slight noise, I raised up to see what caused it, when with the speed of a cannon ball a buck flew past me, barely missing and landed six or eight feet beyond me.

The deer had come up to this fallen tree on the track of the doe and seeing me at work over the doe, became angered and sprung at me and only my straightening up at the very instant that I did saved me from being seriously hurt or perhaps killed. I sprang over the log. The deer stood and gazed at me for a moment. His eyes were of a green hue and the hair on his back all stuck up towards his head. After gazing at me for a moment the deer walked slowly away. The suddenness of the occurrence so unnerved me that I was unable to shoot for some minutes though my gun was standing against the tree within reach.

At another time I was somewhat frightened by what I supposed was a dead bear suddenly coming to life. I had caught the bear in a trap and it had got fastened in some saplings growing on the steep bank of a small brook. I shot the bear in the head, as I thought, and it fell over the bank in such a manner that his whole weight was held by the leg that was fast in the trap. I was unable to release it from the trap where it was hanging as I had no clamp to put the trap springs down with, to release the bear's foot. I had set my gun, a single barrel rifle, against a tree without reloading it.

I cut the bear's paw off close to the trap which allowed the animal to roll down the bank to level ground. I had begun to rip down the leg that had been caught in the trap. A lad of about ten years was with me having accompanied me to attend the traps that day. The lad stood looking on when all of a sudden he said, "See him wink." I stopped my work and glanced at the bear's eyes and sure enough he was winking and winking fast, too, and almost before I knew it the bear was trying to get onto his feet. My gun was unloaded and the lad was screaming at the top of his voice, "Kill him! Kill him!" But what was I to kill him with? Nothing came to my mind at first except to use my gun as a club but I did not like to break it.

In a moment I thought of my hatchet which I had taken from the holster and laid on the bank where I had cut the bear's foot off to release him from the trap. I grabbed the hatchet and one good blow on the head put a stop to the rumpus and nobody harmed, although the boy was badly frightened.

At another time I might have got into trouble with a bear also caught in a trap. I was quite young at this time. I had gone some ten or twelve miles from home and set a trap for a bear. The trap was rather a poor one with a very light chain for a bear trap. I had only set the trap a few days before yet I thought I must go and look after it, but it was more the desire to be in the woods than it was of expecting to have a bear in the trap at that time. I did not take a gun with me, only a revolver loaded as I had no more balls and this was before the days of fixed ammunition.

When I came to the trap there was an ugly bear in it and he had the clog fast in some roots and among some fallen trees. After firing one shot at the Bear's head, which I missed, I then shot the two remaining balls into the bear's body with the only effect of making him more determined to get at me. I now cut a good club determined to put a quietus on Bruin in that manner but after landing several blows my knees began to feel weak. I gave up the job and returned home leaving Bruin in the trap feeling as well as he did when I first found him, so far as I was able to see. But when I returned the next morning with help and now with a regular gun we found Bruin nearly dead and helpless from the shots that I had given him the day before from the revolver.

I have met with other circumstances not quite so fascinating as those just related. At one time a young companion and I were camping and trapping several miles from home and several miles from a road. One day while we were some ways out from camp setting traps my friend became suddenly very ill. It required no skilled doctor to see that it was a case that must have help at once. I started with my friend to get to camp. While my companion was not as old as I, he was larger and heavier. I worked along with him, half carrying him, while he would support himself as best he could. I got him within about a mile of the cabin when he completely gave out and could go no farther and with all my pleadings I could not get him to try to go any farther, but he promised that if I went after help that after resting he would work his way to camp.

Seeing that there was no other way to do, I left him and started for help. It was now dark. My way was over a road of about twelve miles and nearly all the way through a thick woods and part of the way without a road other than a path. When I reached the cabin I stopped long enough to build a fire so that the cabin would be warm when my companion got there if he did get there at all, which I doubted.

I took a lunch in my hand and started for help. I would take a trot whenever the woods were sufficiently open to let in light enough so that I could see my way. I got to my companion's home about midnight and we were soon on the way back with a team and wagon while my companion's father went after a doctor to have him there when we got back with the patient. We drove with the wagon as far as the road would allow, then we left the wagon and rode the horses to the camp.

When we reached the cabin, contrary to expectations, we found my companion there but very sick. We lost no time in getting him onto a horse and starting for the wagon where we had a bed for the patient to lie down on. We got home about eight o'clock in the morning. The doctor was waiting for us and he said as soon as he looked at the man that it was a bad case of typhoid fever. He was right, for it took many weeks before my friend was able to be out again.

When game began to get scarce, that is when game was no longer found plenty right at the door, I began to look for parts where game was plentiful and accordingly, with three companions, I arranged to hunt and trap on Thunder Bay River in Michigan, where deer and all kinds of game, we had been told, were plenty and also lots of fur bearers. This we found to be quite true but the state had passed a law forbidding the shipment of deer. We did not know this when we left home and two of the boys soon got discouraged and returned.

It was while hunting here that I had another trip of twenty miles through the woods over rough corduroy tote road in the night after a team to take my companion (Vanater by name) out to Alpena to have a broken leg set. He was carrying a deer on his shoulder and when near camp it was necessary to cross a small stream to get to the cabin. We had felled a small tree across the creek for the purpose of crossing. There was three or four inches of snow on the log and after my companion was across the creek and just as he was about to step from the log he slipped and fell, striking his leg across the log in some manner so that it broke between the knee and ankle.

After getting my companion to camp and making him as comfortable as possible, I took a lunch in my knapsack and with an old tin lantern with a tallow candle in it, which gave about as much light as a lightning bug, I started over the longest and roughest twenty miles of road that I ever traveled in the night. Sometimes I would trip on some stick or log and fall and put out my light but I would get up, light the candle in the lantern again and hurry on all the faster to make up for lost time. I made the journey all right and was back to camp the next day before noon where we found my companion doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

We got my companion out to Alpena where the doctor set the leg and in the course of two or three weeks he was so far recovered that he was able to return to camp and keep me company until he was able to again take up the trap line and trail.

Some years later I again went back to Michigan and hunted deer and trapped on the Manistee, Boardman and Rapid Rivers, but I found game and furs had become somewhat scarce in that part so I next went with a partner to upper Michigan. At that time there was no railroad in Upper Michigan and but few settlers, after leaving the Straits, until near Lake Superior and near the copper and iron mines.

I have tried my luck in three of the states west of the Rocky Mountains. In the Clear Water regions of Idaho there was a fair showing of big game, with a good sprinkling of the fur bearers, including a bunch of beaver here and there. (Beaver protected.) I heard men tell of there being plenty of grizzly and silver tip bear but I saw no signs of them. In California a trapper told, me of a large grizzly coming to his shack in the night. He said that he was cooking venison and that he had the fresh meat of a deer in the shack and he thought that the bear smelled the meat was what brought him there. The man said the bear smelled around the shack awhile and then began to dig at one corner of the shack and soon pulled out the bottom log. The man kept quiet until the bear pulled out the next log and put his head in through the hole when he put a ball between the bear's eyes that fixed Bruin too quick. (A bad case of nightmare.) I think it doubtful if there is a grizzly bear or at least very few now to be found south of the British Columbia line.

My best catch of bear in one season with a partner was eleven. Years ago I caught from three to six bear each season but late years I have not caught more than one to three. I think that of late the heavy lumbering going on through Northern Pennsylvania had something to do with the catch of bear.

The timber in Pennsylvania is largely cut away now leaving bark slashings which make fine shelter for bear and wildcats and both animals were apparently quite plenty I would judge from the number caught in this section, fall of 1907. Deer are very scarce in this state, perhaps the most to be found are in Pike County.

I can lay claim to one thing that but few hunters and trappers can do, that is for forty years I lost only two seasons from the trap line and the trail and each time I was detained by rheumatism. Once being taken down with sciatica while in the camp trapping and hunting, and it held me to my bed for several months hard and tight. I still have the greater part of my trapping and hunting outfit, and am still in hopes to be able to get out on the line and pinch a few more toes.

CHAPTER II.
Early Experiences.

As I promised to write something of my early experience at trapping and hunting, I will begin by saying that I am now living within one mile of where I was born sixty years ago (this was written in 1904), and that I began my trapping career by first trapping rats in my father's grist mill with the old figure four squat trap. I well remember the many war dances that I had when I could not make the trap stay set; but I did not trap long inside the mill for father also ran a blacksmith shop and always kept a good man to do the work in the shop. I was soon coaxing the smith to make me a steel trap, which he did. I now began catching muskrats along the tail race and about the mill dam, but the spring on my trap was so stiff that when I found the trap sprung or found game in it, I was obliged to bring the trap to the house and have some one older than I to set it. Then I would carry it back to the creek and set it. Well this was slow work and I was continually begging the blacksmith to make me more traps with weaker springs so I could set them myself. After much coaxing he made me three more which I was able to set and then the muskrats began to suffer. Let me say at that time a muskrat skin was worth more than a mink skin.

Boys, I was like a man in public office, the more of it they have, the more they want. So it was with me in regard to the traps, but I could not coax the blacksmith to make any more. An older brother came to my aid in this way: he told me to go to town and see the blacksmith there and see if I could not sell some charcoal to him for traps, and he, (my brother) would help me burn the coal. Now this burning the coal was done by gathering hemlock knots from old rotten logs and piling them up and covering them like potato holes, leaving a hole open at the bottom to start the fire. After the fire was well started the hole was closed and the knots smoldered for several days. Well, the plan worked and by the operation I became the possessor of five more traps. By this time the vicinity of the mill dam and race was no longer large enough to furnish trapping grounds, and I ventured farther up and down the stream and took in the coon and mink along with the muskrat.

WOODCOCK, WIFE, SISTER-IN-LAW, RESIDENCE AND HIS DOG MACK.

We had a neighbor, Washburn by name, who was considered a great trapper, for he could now and then catch a fox. As time passed by, I began to have a great desire to get on an equal with Mr. Washburn and catch a fox. I began to urge him to allow me to go with him to see how he set his trap, and after a long time coaxing, he granted my request. I found what everyone of today knows of the chaff bed set. You may now know that it was not long before I had a bed made near a barn that stood well back in the field, and after much worry and many wakeful nights I caught a fox and I thought myself Lord Jonathan. As time went by, and by chance I learned that by mixing a goodly part of hen manure with plenty of feathers in it, and mixing it with the chaff, it was a great improvement on chaff alone. Next I learned of the well known water set. However, I perhaps set different from the most of trappers in making this set. Well as all trappers learn from long years of experience, so have I, and those old-fashioned sets are like the squat traps, not up-to-date. I will now drop the trapping question for a time and tell you how I killed my first deer.

Just outside of the clearing on father's farm and not more than fifty rods from the house was a wet place, such as are known to these parts as a "bear wallow." This wet place had been salted and was what is called a "salt lick." In those days it was not an uncommon thing to see six or eight deer in the field any morning during the summer season--the same as you will see them in parts of California today. It was not an uncommon thing for my older brother to kill a deer at this lick any morning or evening, but that was not making a nimrod of me. I would beg father to let me take the gun (which was an old double barreled flintlock shot gun) and watch the lick. As I was only nine years old, they would not allow me to have the gun, so I was obliged to steal it out when no one was in sight, carry it to the barn and then watch my opportunity and "skipper" from the barn to the lick. All worked smoothly and I got to the lick all right. It was toward sundown and I had scarcely poked the gun through the hole in the blind and looked out when I saw two or three deer coming toward the lick. I cocked the old gun and made ready but about this time I was taken with the worst chill that any boy ever had and I shook so that I could scarcely hold the gun to the peep hole. It was only a moment when two of the deer stepped into the lick, and I took the best aim I could under the condition, and pulled the trigger. Well of all the bawling a deer ever made, I think this one did the worst, but I did not stop to see what I had done but took across the field to the house at a lively gait, leaving the gun in the blind.

The folks heard the shot and saw me running for the house at break-neck speed (this of course was the first that they knew I was out with the gun). My older brother came to meet me and see what the trouble was. When I told him what I had done, he went with me to the lick and there we found a fair-sized buck wallowing in the lick with his back broken, one buck shot (or rather one slug, for the gun was loaded with pieces cut from a bar of lead); one slug had struck and broken the spine and this was the cause of the deer bawling so loud as this was the only one that hit.

The old shotgun was now taken from its usual corner in the kitchen and hung up over the mantle piece above the big fire place and well out of my reach. This did not stop my hunting. We had a neighbor who had two or three guns and he would lend me one of them. I would hide away hen eggs and take them to the grocery and trade them for powder and shot. Of course the man who owned the gun got the game, when I chanced to kill any, for I did not dare to carry it home. It was not long until father found that I was borrowing Mr. Abbott's gun, and he thought that if hunt I would, it would be better that I use our own and then he would know when I was out with it. He took the old flintlock to the gunsmith and had it fixed over into a cap lock, and now I was rigged out with both gun and traps.

I will now tell you about the first bear that I killed. I was about thirteen years old, and it was not so common a thing for one to kill a bear in those days as it is now (1904), for strange as it may seem, bears are far more plentiful here today than they were at that time.

Two of my brothers and three or four of the neighbors went into the woods about twelve miles and bought fifty acres of land. There was no one living within six or seven miles of the place. They cleared off four or five acres and built a good log fence around it. They also built a small barn and cabin. Each spring they would drive their young cattle out to this place, stay a few days and plant a few potatoes, and some corn. About once a month it was customary to go over to this clearing and hunt up the cattle and bring them to the clearing and salt them, then have a day or two of trout fishing, watch licks and kill a deer or two, jerk the meat and have a general good time.

I was allowed to go on one of these expeditions, and the first night the men watched one or two licks and one of the men killed a deer, but I had to stay in camp that night with a promise that I should watch the second night.

During the first night we heard wolves howl away upon the hills. The next morning the men talked very mysteriously about the wolves and said that it would not be safe to watch the licks that night, that no deer would come to the licks as long as the wolves were around. I took it all in and said nothing, but was determined to watch a lick that night. Finally one of the men, John Duell by name, said that I could watch the lick that he had and he would stay in camp. The one that I was to watch was only a short distance from the clearing. When the sun was about one-half hour high, I took the old shot gun, this time loaded with genuine buck shot and climbed the Indian ladder to the scaffold which was built about twenty feet from the ground in a hemlock tree.

I sat quiet until sundown and no deer came. I thought I would tie the gun in the notches in the limbs, which brought the gun in proper range to kill the deer in the lick, should it come after dark. I got one string tied around the barrel and the limb when a slight noise to my left caused me to look in that direction and I saw a dark object standing in the edge of the little thicket, which I took to be a black creature I had seen down near the clearing when I came to the lick. My thoughts were that I would tie the breech of the gun fast to the limb, and then I would climb down and stone the animal away, so I went on tying the gun fast. On looking up I saw that the supposedly black heifer had turned out to be a black bear, and that it was going to go above the lick and not into it. My knife was out in an instant and the next moment I had the strings that held the gun cut. I raised it carefully to my face and about this time the bear stopped, turned his head around and looked back in the direction he had come. This was my chance, and I fired both barrels at his head and shoulders, and immediately there was a snorting, snarling, rolling and tumbling of the bear, but the maneuvers of the bear was no comparison to the screams and shouts that came from me. I was still making more noise than a band of Indians when Mr. Duell arrived on the scene and took in the situation. The other men who were watching other licks thought I had surely been attacked by the wolves by the unearthly yell I was making and the whole party were soon on the ground. The bear was soon dressed and the men gave me the cognomen of the "The Great Hunter of Kentucky" and so ended the killing of my first bear.

I am still in hopes to take the pelts from one or two this fall and winter and later, I will tell of some of the incidents I have seen and experienced while trapping and hunting among them. Perhaps, how a brother of mine got a tenderfoot to ride the carcass of a deer down a steep and hard frozen mountain when there was about two inches of snow on would be interesting.

CHAPTER III.
My First Real Trapping Experience.

When I was about eighteen, I received a letter from a man by the name of Harris, who lived in Steuben County, New York, wherein he stated that a Mr. Lathrop had suggested me as a suitable party to go with him to the region known as Black Forest. This section extends through four counties, the southern part of Potter and Tioga counties, and northern part of Clinton and Lycoming counties, Pa. Every reader knows or has heard of the Black Forest region.

This section was and is still (1910) known as a good bear country. I thought it strange that Mr. Lathrop, a man of much note as a hunter, would recommend me, merely a boy, to go with Mr. Harris and into a region like the Black Forest. As Mr. Lathrop lived about four miles from our place I lost no time in going there to learn who this Mr. Harris was. I was informed that he was an old hunter and trapper about eighty years old and that he wanted a partner more for a companion than a hunter or trapper. Mr. Lathrop had met Mr. Harris while on a fishing tour on the Sinnamahoning waters during the summer and said that he knew nothing of Mr. Harris otherwise than what he saw of him at this meeting and to all appearances he was a fine old gentleman. I showed the letter to father and asked what I should do about it and he replied that he thought I could spend my time to a better advantage in school, but he did not say that I could not go with Mr. Harris. I therefore wrote him that I would be ready at the time mentioned which was the twentieth of October.

Mr. Goodsil, the gunsmith in town, had been at work for some time on a new gun for me. Now that I was going into the woods to hunt in earnest, I was at the gun shop nearly every day, urging Mr. Goodsil to finish my gun which he did and in plenty of time. After I got my gun the days seemed like weeks and the weeks like months. I was constantly in fear that Mr. Harris would not come. But promptly at the time set, in the evening just before sundown, a man with a one horse wagon loaded with bear traps and other traps of smaller size and with one of the worst old rack-of-bones of a horse that I had ever seen, drove up to father's place, stopped and inquired if Mr. Woodcock lived there. I immediately asked if he was Mr. Harris, as I had already guessed who the man was. He replied that he was and said that he took it that I was the lad who was going with him.

Mr. Harris said that "often an old horse and a colt" worked well together and that we would make a good team. While we were putting his horses away I asked him what he intended to do with the old horse and he replied that he brought him along so that if we got stuck he could hitch him on and help out. The other horse was a fine horse and I was at a loss to know what Mr. Harris meant.

During the evening I thought father and Mr. Harris talked on every other subject rather than hunting but I managed to put in a few questions now and again as to what we were to do when we arrived at the great Black Forest.

Mr. Harris was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a long beard nearly as white as snow. We were up early the next morning and on our way before daylight. Our route was over the road known as the Jersey Shore turnpike but after the first four miles we went through an unbroken wilderness for twenty miles, save only one house, then known as the Edcomb Place, now called Cherry Springs. The next place, ten miles farther on, was a group of four or five shacks called Carter Camp, but known now as Newbergen. This was in the year 1863 and the conditions over this road are the same today only the large timber has been mostly cut away and there is no one living at Cherry Springs. Five miles farther on we came to Oleana, where there was a hotel and store, owned by Henry Anderson, a Norwegian, who came to this country as the private secretary of Ole Bull, the great violinist, and it was here where the much talked of Ole Bull Castle was built.

Beg pardon, I guess I am getting off the trap line. We stopped at the hotel for the night and the next morning purchased supplies sufficient to last during the entire campaign, consisting of lard, pork, flour, corn meal, tea, coffee, rice, beans, sugar and the necessary salt, pepper, etc. I remember well when Mr. Harris ordered fifty pounds of beans and asked me if I thought that would do? I replied that I thought it would. In my mind I wondered what we would do with all those beans. But now I wish to say to the man going into camp on a long hunting and trapping campaign, don't forget the beans as they are bread and meat.

We are now within about ten or twelve miles of where we intended to camp, which was at the junction of the Bailey and Nebo Branches of Young Woman's Creek. It was about the middle of the afternoon of the second day we were out and Mr. Harris said that here would be a good place to build the camp. We got the horses out as soon as we could and Mr. Harris picked out a large rock; one side had a straight, smooth side and was high and broad enough for one end of the shanty and there was a fine spring close by. Mr. Harris pointed to the rock and said that there we had one end of our camp already as well as a good start towards the fire place.

He told me to begin the cutting of logs for the other two sides and the other end. We cut the logs a suitable size to handle well and about twelve and fourteen feet long. Mr. Harris did the planning while I did the heavy part of the work.

That night we slept under a hemlock tree and were up the next morning and had breakfast before daylight and ready for the day's work. We could see scuds of clouds away off in the southwest which Mr. Harris said did not show well for us. He had brought a good crosscut saw and it was not long until we had logs enough cut to put up the sides, about four feet high and logs for one end. We hauled the logs all up with the horse so they would be handy. Then we began the work of notching and putting up the logs.

About noon a drizzling rain started and kept it up all the afternoon. We covered our provisions and blankets the best we could to keep them dry and continued to work on the camp. We got the body up, the rafters and a part of the roof on. We put up a ridge roof as Mr. Harris said it would not be necessary to have the sides quite so high with a steep ridge roof. We got our supplies under shelter and had a dry place to sleep that night. It was still raining in the morning but we continued to work on the camp like beavers all day and we got shakes split from a pine stub to finish the roof and chinking blocks to chink between the logs.

The next morning Mr. Harris said that he would go and take the horse out to a farm house that was about six miles out the turnpike, known as the Widow Herod Place, or better known as Aunt Bettie. Mr. Harris said he would go while there was food enough to last the old horse a day or two until we were ready to use him. Then I knew that the old horse was doomed to be used for bear bait.

When Mr. Harris started away with the horse he cautioned me not to go off hunting, but to stick to work on the shanty which I did like a "nailer." When Mr. Harris returned I had the roof on, the chinking all in and the gable end boarded up with shakes and all ready to begin calking and mudding. It was some time in the afternoon when he got back and after looking over the shack to see what I had done he said that he thought I had done so well that I was entitled to a play spell and suggested that we take our guns and go down along the side of the hill and see if we could kill a deer, remarking that we could use a little venison if we had it. He told me to go up onto the bench near the top of the hill while he would take the lower bench and he would hunt the side hill along down the stream until dark.

Mr. Harris had a single barrel gun with a barrel three or four feet long which he called Sudden Death, and it weighed twelve or fourteen pounds. As for me I had my new double barrel gun which I have mentioned before. We had not gone far until I heard the report of a gun below me and soon I heard Mr. Harris "ho-ho-hoa," and I hurried to where the howling came from and found him already taking the entrails out of a small doe. I suggested to Mr. Harris that we take the deer down to the creek before we dressed it and that by so doing we probably could catch a mink or coon with the entrails. He consented to do so and after we had taken out the entrails Mr. Harris noticed a fine place to catch a fox or some other animal and pointed to a large tree that had fallen across the stream.

The tree had broken in two at the bank, on the side of the stream where we were. The water had swung the trunk of the tree down the stream until there was a space of three or four feet between the end of the tree and the bank. Mr. Harris took a part of the offal from the deer and carried it across to the opposite bank and placed the remainder on the side where we were. He then placed an old limb for a drag to the trap at the place where he wanted to set the trap. As we had no traps with us we went to camp and early the next morning we took two traps and went to this place and set them.

We put in that day finishing the camp, putting in the door and fixing the chimney to the fireplace and calking all the cracks between the logs and mudded tight between the logs and all the joints. Now the camp being completed we began setting the bear traps. The old horse was taken onto a chestnut ridge and shot, cut up into small pieces suitable for bear bait, and hung up in small saplings such as we could bend down. After the bait was fastened to the tree we let it spring up so as to keep it out of the reach of any animal until we had a trap set.

The way Mr. Harris set a bear trap was to build a V shaped pen about three feet long and about the same in height, place the bait in the back end of the pen and set the trap in the entrance. We had eleven bear traps and after they were all set on different ridges where bears were most likely to travel, we began the work of setting the small traps which was not a long job, as we had only about forty.

The next morning Mr. Harris said that I had better go down and see if the traps we had set had been disturbed and he said that he would rest while I was gone.

When I came in sight of the traps I could see a fox bounding around in one of the traps. I could see on looking at the trap we had placed across the creek that the drag had been moved closer to the log but I could see nothing moving. I cut a stick and killed the fox when I crossed over to see what was in the other trap and to my disgust there was a skunk. I was not particularly in love with skunks in those days, for while they scented just as loud at that time as now they were vastly lacking in the money value. I took hold of the clog and carefully dragged the skunk to the creek and sank him in the water. I now went back to the other side of the creek and set the fox trap and when I had the trap set the skunk was good and dead. I reset the trap and took the fox and skunk to camp without skinning. When I got to camp I found Mr. Harris busy making stretching boards of different sizes for different animals from shakes that we had left when covering the roof. Mr. Harris laughed and said that he knew that we would need them when I got back. The fox and skunk were skinned, stretched and hung up on the outside of the gable of the shack, and that was the starting point of our catch of the season.

We set the most of our small traps along the streams for foxes and mink, taking a few to the ridges to set in likely places to catch a fox, and at thick laurel patches where we were likely to catch a wild cat as there was a bounty of $2 on them.

After the small steel traps were set we began building a line of deadfalls for marten and fisher. After the deadfalls were built we divided our time between hunting deer and tending the traps.

We caught three bears, two fisher, which were very scarce, as I do not think that fishers were ever very plentiful in this state, a good bunch of marten, foxes, four or five wildcats and killed twenty-two deer. The last days of December Mr. Harris said that we would prepare to go home as the deer season closed the first of January. Although the law gave until the fifteenth to get your deer we had dragged the most of ours up to the Bailey Mill at various times. We got all those around the mill and sent them to Jersey Shore by freight teams to the railroad, then shipped them to New York. We got 15 cents for saddles and 10 cents for the whole deer.

Mr. Harris had brought an auger with him so that he could make a sleigh to go home with and from birch saplings we made one and on the thirteenth of January I went and got the horse. He was as fat as a pig and felt like a colt. We hitched him up to the sleigh and got our stuff up to the Bailey Mill where we loaded the wagon onto the sleigh and piled on the furs and the rest of our outfit and early on the morning of the fourteenth we started for home. This ended my first real experience as a hunter and trapper.

I received two or three letters from Mr. Harris, the last one in which he stated that he was not feeling very well and I never heard from him again.

CHAPTER IV.
Some Early Experiences.

In 1871 or 1872 I had several bear traps made by our local blacksmith and I started in as a bear trapper and went it alone. After being out with Mr. Harris I had taken some valuable lessons on trapping bear and other animals. I built a good log camp on the West Branch of Pine Creek and went to trapping and hunting without either partner or companion, but after being in camp the first season I bought a shepherd dog that was a year old and broke him for still hunting and trapping. I found that a good intelligent dog was not only a companion but also a valuable one. I have noticed that some trappers do not want a dog on the trap line with them, claiming that the dog is a nuisance. This is because the dog was not properly trained.

To get back to the bear trapping: In the locality where I was trapping, bear were not very plentiful except in season, when there was a crop of beechnuts, although there was but little other shack, such as chestnuts and acorns. However, some seasons there would be an abundance of black cherries which the bears are very fond of. I set three traps at the head of a broad basin where there were three or four springs and the next day I set the balance of my bear traps; then I built a few deadfalls for coons and set a few steel traps for fox.

As I had seen several fresh bear tracks crossing the stream, where I had been setting the coon traps, on the morning of the third day after I had set the first three bear traps, I thought that I would go and look after them. They were about a mile and a half from camp and when I came in sight of the first trap I saw that I had a bear. You may be sure that I again felt like a mighty hunter. I was more pleased over this one bear than I was over the eight bear we had caught when I was with Mr. Harris, because now I was the trapper and not Mr. Harris. The bear was a good sized female. She had become fast only a short distance from where the trap was set. I shot and skinned the bear then cut the carcass into quarters, bent down a sapling and hung a quarter of the bear on this. With a forked pole I raised the sapling up until the meat was out of the way of small animals that might happen along.

After hanging up three of the quarters in this manner, leaving one to take to camp, I took the lungs and liver and put them in the bait pen. The bait had all been eaten and I was quite sure it had been done after the bear was caught, as a bear immediately loses its appetite after placing its foot in a good, strong trap. I really expected to find another bear in one of the other traps as they were not far away, but the other traps were undisturbed.

The next morning I thought I would take some bait from camp and bait the trap where I had put the offals from the bear, fearing that should a bear come along it might not eat the bait that was in the pen. You may imagine my surprise when I came in sight of the trap to see another bear fast in the trap.

After killing the bear I removed the entrails and started to carry the bear to camp. It was a cub and I could carry it without cutting it in parts. I was just about to start for camp when I decided I would go to the other traps. If I was surprised at seeing the first cub, I was doubly so, for there was another cub tangled up in the trap. Do you think I felt gay? Well, that was no name for it.

I shot this cub and without waiting to dress it I took a lively gait to the other trap to see if there were any more bears but there was nothing there. The last two bears, I think were the cubs of the old bear that I had caught the night before. I spent the entire day getting the bears to camp. I did not get any more bear for some time although I had an opportunity to learn a whole lot about them.

Some days after I got the old bear and the cubs, I found the bait pen in one of the traps torn down by a bear, which had taken the bait and had not sprung the trap. Right here I will say that I learned a great deal more about the habits of Bruin. After finding the bait gone I thought that all I would have to do was to make the bait pen a little stronger so Bruin could not tear it down so readily to get at the bait. I did not think that a bear knew anything about "trapology," for the experience I had so far in bear trapping was that bears knew but little more about a trap than a hog, though later I found I was very much mistaken.

SETTING A LARGE STEEL TRAP FOR BEAR.

The trap was set in a small brook where there were plenty of rocks of all sizes. I rolled several of these rocks, as large as I could handle, up about the bait pen to strengthen it to such an extent that Bruin would not think of tearing it down. I figured the bear by going over the trap would take the bait from the entrance of the pen as a good bear should; though in this I was greatly mistaken. The second day I went to the trap with full expectation of finding Bruin fast in the trap, but again I was disappointed--Bruin had again gone to the back of the pen and torn the top of the pen off, rolling away some of the stones, taking the bait.

Now I saw that if I was to get my friend Bruin, I would have to work a little strategy. I removed the trap from the clog, leaving the clog undisturbed and making all appear just the same as it did when the trap was set. I was very careful to have the covering of the trap left just the same as when the trap was set. Then I got another clog and set the trap at the back of the pen at the place where the bear had torn off the top of the bait pen. Here I concealed the trap and clog as completely as I knew how and being very careful to make all appear just as before the trap was set, flattering myself that Bruin would surely put his foot in it this time.

I went early the next morning, being sure that I would find Bruin, but no bear had been there. I went again early the next morning with high expectations of finding Bruin waiting for me, but again nothing had been disturbed. Thinking that Bruin had left that locality altogether, or that he would not be back again for several days, I thought I would go and have a team come and take out the furs and game I had, and give Bruin time to get back after more bait. As I had caught no bear at the other traps, I felt quite certain that Bruin was still somewhere in the neighborhood and would be around again after more bait.

When I reached home an old gentleman by the name of Nelson who was a noted hunter and trapper and who lived near us, came to see me. Let me explain who this Mr. Nelson was, as I shall have more to say of him.

Mr. Nelson was one of the early settlers in this county, moving here at an early date from Washington County, New York State. He was known here as Uncle Horatio and by many as Squire Nelson, as he was a Justice of the Peace here for thirty years.

Mr. Nelson would always come to our house as soon as he found that I was at home, to see what luck I had in the way of trapping and hunting. On this occasion, Mr. Nelson, or Uncle Horatio, as we always called him, was soon over to learn what luck I had and when I told him what sort of a time I had trying to outwit the bear, he said I had better build a deadfall and let the bear kill himself. Uncle said that Bruin would give me much trouble and was likely to leave and I would not get him at all. This idea I did not like, for I had, before this, been put to my wit's end to outwit a cunning old fox, but finally succeeded in catching him and I thought I could outwit such a dumb thing as a bear. I thought if I could not get the bear in a steel trap, there would be but little use trying to get him in such a clumsy thing as a deadfall--however, Uncle had trapped bear long before I was born and knew what he was talking about.

As soon as I got back to camp I went to the bear trap to relieve Bruin of his troubles, but it was not the bear that was in trouble, but myself, for Bruin had been there and torn out a stone at one side of the pen and had taken the bait. Well, the case was getting desperate, so I got another trap and set it at the side where the bear took the bait the last time, taking all the pains possible in setting the trap, but the result was no better than before.

I had made it a habit to hang on a small bait near the bear traps, believing that the bear would be attracted by the scent of the bait hanging up from the ground more than it would from the bait in the pen. At this trap I had hung up the bait in a bush that extended out from the bank over the brook and each time the bear had taken this bait. I now took one of the traps at the pen, leaving the clog and all appearances as though the trap still remained there. Getting another clog I concealed it under the edge of the bank and set the trap under the bait that I had hung in the bush. I was certain this time that I would outwit Bruin, but instead, the bear went onto the bank, pulled the bush around, took the bait and went about his business. Now I was getting pretty excited and began to think of the advice of Uncle Horatio but I was not willing to give up yet.

Up the brook, fifty or sixty feet from the bait pen, there had fallen a small, bushy hemlock tree which stood on the right hand bank of the spring, and the top of the tree reached nearly over to the opposite bank. I had noticed that when the bear had come to the trap he had come down the brook and went back the same way. The water was shallow in the brook, barely covering the stones and fallen leaves all over the bed of the brook. Going to the top of the hemlock tree, I saw that the bear had passed between the top of this tree and the bank of the brook. Here was a fine place to conceal the trap and I said, "Old fellow, here I will surely outwit you." I took the trap from the bait pen and set it in the open space between the top of the tree and concealing all the very best I could, I again put more bait in the bait pen and hung up more on the bush.

I waited two days and then went to the traps again, wondering all the way what the result would be. Well, it was the same as before. The bear had gone to the bush on the bank, taken the bait, and had also taken the bait from the bait pen as usual. Now I thought it quite time to try Uncle's plan, though I had but little faith in it.

It was several miles to Mr. Haskins', the nearest house, but I lost no time in getting there for I was now feeling desperate. Mr. Haskins readily consented to help me build a deadfall. We cut a beech tree that was about fourteen inches through, that stood back in thick undergrowth some rods from the bait pen. We cut a portion about four feet long from the large end of the tree for the bed-piece and placing it against the small tree for one of the stakes. With levers we placed the tree on top of the bed-piece and with three other good stakes driven at each side of the logs fastened the tops of the stakes together with withes to strengthen them, we soon had a good, strong deadfall made, as every boy who is a reader of the H-T-T, knows how to build. We baited the trap and set it, getting done in time for Mr. Haskins to get home before dark.

I again put bait back in the bait pen and on the bush as before and patiently awaited results. The second day I looked after the traps but there were no signs of bear being about either the deadfall or the steel traps and I feared that I had frightened Bruin out of the country in building the deadfall. I put in three or four days looking after other traps, thinking but little about the bear that had, so far, been beyond my skill.

After three or four days, I again went to the deadfall, wondering and imagining all kinds of things. When I came to the steel traps the bait was still undisturbed and I was now sure that that particular bear was not for me, but when I stepped into the thicket so that I could see the deadfall, there was Bruin, good and dead. When I looked at the bear I found that he had three toes gone from one foot and this I thought to be the cause of his being so over-shy of the steel traps.

I learned a lesson that has since served me more than one good turn.

* * *

In later years it was customary for many of my friends to come to my camp and spend a few days with me. It was of one of these occasions that I will relate. Two young men, named Benson and Hill, had sent me word that they were coming out to my camp and hunt a few days; also to go with me to my bear traps but added that they did not suppose that I would get a bear while they were in camp, even if they would stay all winter.

It had been drizzling sort of a rain for several days and every old bear hunter knows that dark, lowery weather is the sort bears like to do their traveling in. I had set the time to go out on a stream known as the Sunken Branch, to look after some fox traps and also two bear traps that I had in that section the day I got word from Benson and Hill that they would be over to camp the next day. I thought I would put off going to look after the traps in that locality until the boys came over and should I have the luck to find a bear in one of the traps it would come very acceptable to have the help to get the bear to camp for it was some four or five miles to the farthest trap.

The boys came as they said but the next morning after they got there it was raining very hard and they did not want to go out and did not want me to go until it slacked up. Well, the next morning it was raining hard and the boys were in no better mood to go out than the day before. It had been several days since I had been to the traps, in that direction, and there were some chestnuts in that locality where the bear traps were set. The storm had knocked the chestnuts out and it was probable that bears would be in that locality. I told the boys I did not like to let the traps go any longer without looking after them and they could stay in camp and I would go to the traps. When I was about ready to start, Hill said that he would go with me, notwithstanding the rain, though Benson tried to persuade us not to go, stating that no bear was fool enough to travel in such a rain and that all we would get would be a good thorough soaking.

I was determined to delay no longer looking at the traps and started off when Hill said, "Well, I'm with you." So we took the nearest cut possible to reach the traps. Hill was continually wishing we would find a bear in one of the traps and that he could shoot it so that he could joke with Benson.

Our route took us along the top of a ridge for about three miles when we dropped off to the first trap. When we were still half way up the side of the ridge I saw that Hill had got his wish for I could see a bear rolling and tumbling about down in the hollow and knew that it was fast in the trap. I tried to point it out to Hill but he could not get his eye on it, so we went farther down the hill when Jim (that was Hill's given name) could see the bear. He said there was no need of going closer, that he could shoot it from where we were, but I said we must go closer as I did not like to make holes in the body of the skin unnecessarily. We had only taken a few steps farther when Jim said we were plenty close, that he could, shoot it from where we were and that if we should go closer the bear might break out of the trap and escape.

With all my urging I could not get Hill closer so I told him to be sure that he shot the bear in the head and not in the body. I discovered that Hill was very nervous and told him to take all the time necessary to make a sure shot. When the gun cracked I saw a twig fall that the gun had cut off fully three feet above the bear's head. I urged Hill a few yards closer when he tried again with no better results than the first shot. After making the third shot Hill said he guessed that I had better shoot the bear as he thought something had gone wrong with the sights on his gun. It was raining hard so I killed the bear and took the entrails out, set the trap again and left the bear lying on the ground. As it was a small bear we concluded to take the bear to camp whole.

We hurried on to the next trap which was about a mile farther down the stream. When we got to where the trap was set it was gone, but the way things were torn up we could see that we had a bear this time that was no small one.

The bear had worked down the stream, first climbing the hill on one side of the stream until it became entangled in a jam of brush or old logs, then back down the hill and up on the other side until it became discouraged, when it would try the other side again. The bear was continuously getting the clog fast under the roots of trees or against old logs when it would gnaw the brush and tear them out by the roots. It was also noticed where he would rake the bark on the trees in trying to climb them, in hopes of escaping the drag that was following him. The bear would gnaw and tear old logs to pieces whenever the clog became fast against them.

This was all very interesting and exciting to Hill and he said he would give Benson the laugh when we got to camp. Hill had made me promise not to tell Benson how he had shot three times at the bear's head and missed it.

The bear had worked his way down the stream nearly a mile from where the trap was set, when we came upon him and shot him at once. Hill declaring that it was getting too near night and raining too hard for him to practice on shooting bear any more that day.

We skinned the bear, hung up the meat, took the trap and skin and went back up the creek and set the trap in the same place again. Taking the bear skin we started back to where we left the other bear. After carrying the whole bear and bear skin until it was dark, we hung the bear skin up in the crotch of a tree, taking the bear and hurrying to camp at as lively a gait as we were able to make.

Hill said that while we had had a pretty rough day of it he would make it all up in getting the joke on Benson if I would not give him away on shooting the bears, as Hill was to tell Benson all about how he did it.

Before we came to camp I said to Hill that if he cared to we would play a joke on Benson. He wished to know what the plan was. I said that we would fix the bear up in the path that led from the shack to the spring and get Benson to go after a pail of water and run onto the bear. So we planned to have Benson think that we got no bear and after supper was over I was to take the pail and start to the spring after a pail of fresh water when Hill was to interfere and insist that Benson should go for the water as he had been in camp all day and needed exercise.

It was about a hundred feet from the shack to the spring and down quite a steep bank and about half way from the shack to the spring was a beech log across the path. When we got near camp we made no noise and when we came to the spring we washed our hands carefully to remove any blood that might be on them. Then we took the bear to the log that was across the path and placed the forepaws and shoulders up over the log leaving the hind parts on the ground, then with a small crotched stick placed under the bear's throat to hold up its head we had it fixed up to look as natural as we were able to in the dark.

We went into the shack looking as downcast as a motherless colt. It was unnecessary to deny getting any bear for Benson told us almost before we were inside that we should have known that we would get no bear in any such weather as we were having and none but simpletons would have gone out in such rain.

We ate our supper which Benson had waiting for us. We had little to say farther than to talk of what a fearful rain we were having. After supper was over I took the water pail, though it was nearly full of water, and threw the water out the door before Benson had time to object, saying that I would get a pail of fresh water. Hill said that we should let Benson go after the water as he had not been out of the shanty all day and needed some fresh air. Benson consented to go after another pail of water although he said that he had brought the water that we had thrown out just before we came. I told Benson that I would hold the light at the door so he could see but Benson replied that I need not bother, all that was necessary was to leave the door of the shack open so that he could see his way back.

About the time that Benson reached the log he gave a terrible howl and we heard the water pail go rattling through the brush and when we got to the door Benson was coming on all fours, scrambling as fast as he could and yelling "Bah--bah--bear--bear!"

Hill nor I could not keep from roaring with laughter, and finally Hill managed to say, "Oh, you didn't see any bear."

Benson made no reply but was as white as a sheet and shook as though he had the ague. We could not conceal our feelings and when Benson found his speech he said, "You think you are mighty cunning; if you got a bear why didn't you say so and not act like two dumb idiots."

We had laughed so hard that Benson caught on and the game was up.

Well, after Benson was onto our joke, nothing would do but we must get the bear in and skin out the fore parts so we could have some bear meat cooked before we went to bed. Every time Hill awoke during the night he would burst out laughing while Benson would hurl a few cuss words at him.

The next day we brought in the skin and saddles of the other bear, leaving the fore quarters for fox and marten bait.

The rain now being about over with and the ground and leaves thoroughly soaked, it was a good time for still hunting deer, so we were all out early the next morning. We started out together and soon became separated and it so happened that I was the only one to get a deer during the day. When I got to camp I found Benson was not in yet, so I did not tell that I had killed a deer, but thought I would wait until Benson came in and see what luck he had. If he had not killed anything I would give him the hint and let him have the credit of killing the deer that I got as a sort of off-set on Hill on the bear hunt. I stayed outside gathering dry limbs for wood until I saw Benson coming and I planned to meet him before Hill got to talk to him. I learned that Benson had not killed anything, so I told him where I had killed the deer and that if he cared to he could claim the deer as his game. Benson was much pleased with the idea and as I had told him just where I had killed the deer it was easy for Benson to explain to Hill where the deer was shot. Hill did not believe that Benson had killed a deer and said he would not believe he (Benson) had killed one if he did not know that he had been alone and anyway he must see the deer before he would believe it. I took the first opportunity when Hill was out to tell Benson which way to go so that he would be sure to find the deer and the next morning the boys went out and brought in the deer while I went to look after some traps. The boys stayed a day or two longer and then went home declaring that they had had the best hunt of their lives.

I will now tell of some of my hunting and trapping with Mr. Nelson and my first experience with a big cat. About 1860, when I was a mere chunk of a boy, a man by the name of Perry Holman was camping on the extreme headwaters of Pine Creek, hunting and trapping. Early one morning Mr. Holman came out of the woods after groceries and other necessaries. On his way out he saw where a small bear had crossed the road just at the top of the hill on the old Jersey Shore turnpike and about five miles from Mr. Nelson's place. Mr. Nelson at that time always kept one or two good bear dogs. Mr. Holman told Mr. Nelson of the bear's track and said that the bear had gone into a laurel patch on the west side of the road and that the track was very fresh. He thought if Mr. Nelson would take his dogs and go out that he could get the bear without much trouble as he believed the bear would still be in the laurels close to the road.

Mr. Nelson told Mr. Holman to get his groceries while he would come to see if I would go along to look after the team while Mr. Nelson and Mr. Holman went into the laurels after the bear. Of course, I was ready for anything that had hunt in it. The sleighing was good and Mr. Nelson was soon ready, taking his dogs into the sleigh so that they would not break off on the track of a deer or some other animal.

When we came to where Mr. Holman saw the bear or cub, Mr. Nelson, or Uncle as we always called him, said to Mr. Holman before he got out of the sleigh:

"Perry, that is no cub's track; that is a big cat and I think we will find him in the laurel patch."

Uncle told me to stay with the team and that they would not be gone long; that if the track led off he would come back to the sleigh and I could go back with the team and he would go to Mr. Holman's camp and stay over night and come home the next day.

The dogs were anxious to take the trail, but Uncle held them in to the laurels. They had not been gone more than ten minutes when the dogs began to give tongue like mischief. I could see that the dogs were coming towards the road and in about a minute saw the biggest cat that I had ever seen at that time, shinning up a large tree that was not further than fifty yards from the sleigh. The dogs were soon at the tree barking their best and in a few minutes I heard the crack of a gun and the big cat seemed to fly out into the air. I could hear the cat go threshing down through the limbs on the trees and the dogs doubled their howling and I could hear the men laugh. I called to the men to see if they got the cat. Uncle told me to watch the horses and they would soon be there, and they were soon in sight dragging a large panther instead of either a cub or cat. Uncle drove down to where Holman's path left the road to go down to his camp and we then drove back home. Uncle was greatly pleased over Perry's cat hunt as Mr. Nelson called it.

* * *

In or about the year '67 or '68, Uncle Horatio Nelson, whom I have spoken of before, had for years been accustomed to going to Edgecomb Place, later known as Cherry Springs, to hunt and trap. Wolves were then more plentiful than foxes are at the present time.

I will explain that Cherry Springs was simply a farm house built of logs. This house was located about half way through, or in the center of a dense forest of about twenty miles square. The Jersey Shore turnpike ran through this vast forest and the stage or any traveler going through this region were obliged to stop at this house to feed at noon, or to stop over night, this being the only house on the road.

From where this house was located there was easy access to the waters of Pine Creek, which flowed east, to the waters of the Cross Fork of Kettle Creek, which flowed south and to the waters of the East Fork of the Sinnamahoning which flowed west. There was no one living on any of these streams for many miles. This was the point where Mr. Nelson, or Uncle, as I shall call him, hunted for many years.

At the time I am writing of, it had been a noted place for many hunters to stop from all parts of the country. There were almost too many hunters stopping at Cherry Spring to suit Uncle as he was getting pretty well along in years and did not like so much company. I had been camping a greater part of the time for several seasons about five miles north of Cherry Springs and one day Uncle said, if I cared to, he would go on to Crossfork and build a cabin and we would hunt and trap, more particularly trap. This was satisfactory to me although I had a good camp where I was trapping and in a fairly good locality for game, but the Crossfork country was a little farther in the tall timber so I thought that the change might be a good thing.

About the first of October we took a team, went into the woods and cut out a sort of a turkey trail from the wagon road down to Boon Road Hollow to the Hog's Back branch of the Crossfork, where we selected a sight for the camp. We felled a large hemlock tree and cut off four logs of suitable length to make the body of the camp about ten by twelve feet inside. We worked them around in shape fitting the two shorter logs in between the ends of the two longer logs; then placing rafters at about half pitch, put on the covering, chinked and calked all the cracks and built a chimney of stones, sticks and clay and put in a door.

We were now ready for the trap line. We set the bear traps on different ridges where we thought would be the most likely places for bears to travel. Then we put out two lines of deadfalls for marten. We then took the different branches and spring runs, building more deadfalls for mink and coons, setting the greater part of our steel traps for foxes. After all the steel traps but three or four were set, Uncle said that if I would go down the creek and set the balance of the steel traps, he would go and look after the first of the bear traps that we had set. I set the steel traps for foxes and built one or two more deadfalls farther down the creek. I think that I found a mink and one coon in the deadfalls that we had set in that section.

I got to camp about dark but Uncle had not come yet. I hustled supper to have it ready when he came, but when supper was ready I could neither see nor hear anything of him. After waiting some time I concluded to eat and then if he did not come I would go in the direction he had taken as I now suspected that he had gotten a bear and was bringing in what he could carry and that I would meet him and help him in with his load. Before I started out to see if I could find him I gave several long and loud "coohoopes," but got no answer. I concluded I would fire a couple of gunshots and see if I could get an answer, but got no reply save the hoot of an owl.

I now began to feel alarmed, fearing that some misfortune had happened Uncle as he knew every rod of the ground in that section. I had no lantern so I made two good torches from fat pine, having a good supply in camp, and followed the stream until I came to a little draw where we had a bear trap set. This trap had not been disturbed, so I climbed the hill to the top of the ridge when I fired two more gunshots but still got no response. I was now thoroughly alarmed as I knew that a gunshot on the still night air could be heard a long ways from the high ridge I was on.

With the aid of another torch I hurried on to the next bear trap and upon arriving at the second trap I saw that the clog was gone and that there was a trail leading off through the leaves and undergrowth. I now knew that it was something in connection with the bear that was detaining Uncle, but what it was I could not tell.

I followed the trail with the aid of the torch for fifty yards when I came to a fallen tree that lay up about a foot from the ground. Here I found the clog that had been fastened to the trap. I could see that the trap ring had been moved from the clog by the aid of a hatchet. I searched about but could find no signs of the trap nor of the bear and I could no longer follow the trail by the aid of the torch, the last one being now pretty well burned out. There was nothing for me to do but go back to camp and wait until morning.

When I was within a mile or less of camp, I heard the report of a gun in the direction of camp and knew that Uncle had arrived and was firing his gun to let me know that he was in camp. I answered the call by firing my gun and hurried on to camp to see what had detained him.

The bear had gone over the fallen tree while the end of the clog had caught under the log and a weak link in the trap chain had given away, Bruin going off with the trap. Uncle had followed the bear several miles when dark came on. He followed down the stream to where it came in to the branch that the camp was on, and being over a ridge and so far from the camp was the cause of him not hearing the gunshots that I had fired. Uncle followed the bear until dark so as to know about where he was in case a snow should fall to fill up the trail.

It was after midnight when we turned in but we were up in good season the next morning and taking a lunch in our knapsacks and each a blanket, we started for the wind jam to see if we could find the bear. Uncle took me to the bear's trail at the edge of the wind jam where I waited, giving him time to get around on the opposite side of the jam, at a point, where the bear was likely to come out, provided I should start him. I had not followed the trail far into the jam before I came to where the bear had made a bed by breaking down briers and gnawing down saplings, but he did not stay long at this place when he again went on.

I soon came to another such bed and after finding several more, came to one that was fresher than the others. I could see that the bed had been made during the night. I now began to work my way along the trail very cautiously with my gun in hand ready for action and my heart in my mouth for I knew that Bruin would soon be on the move. I worked my way through the jam at a snail's pace and soon heard the rattle of the trap and could see the brush move not more than a hundred feet away.

The undergrowth was so thick that I could get no distinct sight of the bear but fired a shot more to let Uncle know that Bruin was on the move than of any expectation of hitting him. When the gun cracked the bear gave a snort like that of a frightened hog and I could hear him tearing through the brush at a great rate. It was not long until I heard Uncle shoot and in the course of two or three minutes I heard him shoot again and knew that Bruin had given up the trap.

After I had gone along the trail quite a ways, I saw a few drops of blood now and then and when I reached Uncle he was already skinning the bear. We found three holes in the bear. Uncle's second shot which was the finishing shot, hit the bear in the head. The shot that I fired caught Bruin just forward of the hips and undoubtedly would have killed him in time.

We skinned the bear and took the hind quarters, the skin and trap and started for camp. I must say that I think this was the hardest stunt of packing that I remember and every old trapper knows what sort of a job of toting he often runs up against. We went down the run about two miles before coming to the stream that our camp was on, and then we had to go up this stream about four miles to camp. When we reached the stream it was dark; there was no path and there was a great deal of fallen timber and undergrowth along the creek, the creek winding around from one side of the valley to the other. It was a continual fording of the creek, climbing over fallen timber, through undergrowth and what not. You know no one but a trapper would be silly enough to do such a stunt in the dark. We arrived at camp about 9 o'clock, wet, tired and hungry. The next morning Uncle was still a little sore but I was as good as new and ready for another job of the same kind.

Some days later we had a fall of snow of several inches and the second or third day after the snow came we heard a number of gunshots south of the camp on the ridge in the direction that we had a bear trap set. It was near sundown and as we were not aware that there was anyone camping or living in the direction of the gunshots, we concluded it was hunters shooting at deer. The shots were at such long intervals that Uncle said he did not think it was anyone shooting at deer and that the shots sounded like they were right where we had a bear trap set and that he thought hunters had run onto a bear in our trap and were shooting at it. It was then too late to go to the trap. Uncle said we would get up early in the morning for he was sure the gunshots were close in the neighborhood in which our trap was set, and he thought it likely that we had a bear in the trap.

We were on the way before it was fairly daylight but when we came to the place where the trap had been set we found it gone. We followed the trail a short distance when the tracks of three men came onto the trail. The men had stamped and tracked about where they came onto the trail as though they were holding a council and then all started off on the trail of the bear. They did not go far before they came up with the bear where the trap clog had become fast between two saplings. The trap was nowhere to be seen. The men had made many tracks where they killed the bear.

Uncle said it looked as though the men intended to steal the bear trap and all. We saw where the track of a man led off towards a large log and returned. Uncle told me to follow that man's tracks and see what he went out there for, as probably he hid the trap behind the log. I found the trap clog behind the log but there was no trap. It was snowing some at the time the men killed the bear.

When we found that the men had taken the trap and hid the trap clog Uncle exclaimed, "The varmints intend to steal our bear." We followed the trail of the men as fast as we could for we were quite sure they must have stopped over night not far from there for it was nearly dark when they killed the bear. Their trail led down the hillside to the main stream, then down the creek and we hustled after them as fast as we could go. After going down the creek a mile or more we saw a smoke and Uncle said, "There the varmints are," and he was right. We were none too soon as the men were already hitching the horses to the sleigh ready to start off. We could see that the bear was already on the sleigh, although it was covered over with a blanket. The men started at us but did not say a word.

Uncle walked up to the end of the sleigh, caught a corner of the blanket, threw it back and uncovered the bear. Then taking the bear by the foreleg he gave it a flop onto the ground saying, "You have a bear, haven't you," and the bear rolled to the ground and uncovered the trap; Uncle said, "You have a trap, too, haven't you." Not a word did any of the men say and when Uncle asked them who they were and where they lived, one of them said that they did not intend to steal the bear but were going to take it to the first house and leave it for us.

Uncle told them that we did not care to have the bear go in that direction and told the men they must take the bear to our camp and their intentions were to steal the bear and trap and that they had better settle the matter at once. The men were ready to settle and asked what it would cost and Uncle told them if they would take the bear to our camp and then leave the woods and not be caught in that section again, that he would let them go. This they readily consented to do and insisted that we take a part of a cheese they had brought in with them. Uncle told them that we did not care for their cheese or anything else they had--all that we wanted was that they take the bear to our camp and get out of the woods. This they did and one of them also took the cheese along and left it at the camp. Then they left, begging that we would not say anything farther about the matter.

We learned that the men did not live down the creek but instead lived in New York State. They had come for a few days' deer hunting and had only made a shelter of hemlock boughs. The first day out they ran across the bear and as it was snowing they thought it would snow enough to cover up their tracks and they would take the bear and get back to New York State. Well, they did get back but it happened they left the bear behind.

I would like to ask the old liners who have grown too old on the trail and trap line to follow it longer with profit and pleasure, if they keep bees? I find it a great pleasure to watch these little, industrious and intelligent fellows work.

CHAPTER V.
Some Early Experiences (Concluded.)

I will state that I began my career as a trapper and hunter at a very early age. The woods extended to the very door of my father's house and deer were more numerous than sheep in the fields at the present day. Bear were also quite plentiful and wolves were to be found in considerable numbers in certain localities. Panthers were much talked of and occasionally one would be killed by some hunter or trapper of which I will speak later.

It was not long before I found my way further up the stream into the woods where mink and coon tracks were in real paths, and here was where father taught me how to make the deadfall, which was the trap principally used in those days.

The guns that father had were one double barrel shotgun and a single barrel rifle, both flintlocks, and with much anxiety I watched those guns and begged of the older members of the family to let me shoot the gun but mother was ever on the watch to see that I was not allowed to handle the guns.

About this time a man moved into the place by the name of Abbott from Schuylkill County, Pa., who brought two guns with him, a double barrel shotgun and a double barrel rifle. After doing some hard begging Mr. Abbott said that I could take the shotgun but that he could not furnish the ammunition. I later thought that Mr. Abbott thought that the problem of getting ammunition would put me up the tree. But again the will was good and I soon found a way. I began to watch the hen's nests pretty close and hide away the eggs and mother began to complain that the hens were not laying as many eggs as usual. Well, three dozen of eggs would get a pound of shot, a fourth of a pound of powder and a box of G. D. gun caps.

I had some fine times out with the gun and I always gave Mr. Abbott whatever game I killed. I did not dare to take it home fearing that I would be compelled to explain how I came by the game. One day I had been out after wild pigeons and had got quite a number or more than I liked to give away and go without ourselves. I thought I would resort to one of those white lies that we have all heard tell of. I told my parents that Mr. Abbott gave me the pigeons but the plan did not work, although it was the making of me so far as a gun is concerned.

When father inquired of Mr. Abbott as to how I got the pigeons it brought out the whole thing as to the gun business and also why the egg basket had not filled up as usual. The result was that father and mother held a council of war and decided that if I was to have a gun the better way was to let me have one of my own. Father told me that I must not borrow a gun any more but take one of our own guns and that he (father) would take the gun to the gunsmith and have the locks changed from a flint lock to a cap lock.

You may be sure that this was the best news that this kid ever heard. I picked up double the usual stone piles that day and went and got the cows without being told a half dozen times.

Well, as every hunter and trapper who is born and not made is always looking for taller timber and trying to get farther and farther from the ting-tong of the cow bells, so it was in my case. I had seen some whelp wolves that friends of ours (Harris and Leroy Lyman, who were noted hunters) had got. They had gone onto the waters of the Sinnemahoning and taken five pup wolves not much larger than kittens, from their den. The puppies were brought out alive but they killed the old mother wolf. On their way home they stopped at our house so that we could see the young wolves.

I heard these hunters tell how they discovered the wolf den; how they had howled in imitation of a wolf to call the old wolves up; how they had shot the old female and had then taken the young wolves from the den; heard them tell of the money that the bounty on wolves would bring them (there was $25 bounty on all wolves then, the same as now). All of this made me long for the day when I would be old enough to do as these noted hunters had done.

I had already found a den of young foxes and had kept five of them alive, which father finally killed all but one because he said they were a nuisance. I had seen some Indians bring a live elk in with ropes, dogs and horses, which they had roped in, after the dogs had brought it to bay, on a large rock on Tombs Run (Waters of Pine Creek).

All this made me hungry for the day that I too could hit the trail and trap line that I might get some of those wolves and with the bounty money buy traps and guns to my satisfaction.

A number of persons at our place (Lymansville) had gone several miles into the woods to the headwaters of the Sinnamahoning and taken up fifty acres of land. An acre or two was cleared off and the timber from this clearing was drawn and put in an immense pile to be used for the camp fire. The camp was simply a shed or leanto, open on one side, and in front of this shed the fire was built of beech and maple logs. Brook trout and game of all kinds were in abundance. Two or three times during the summer a party of six or eight persons would go out to this clearing and camp a week, killing as many deer as they could make use of, jerking a good portion to take home with them and having a general good time feasting on trout, venison and other game, and amusing themselves shooting at marks, pitching quoits, etc. I will add that the main reason they went to this camp was for a good time rather than the game, as game was plentiful right at their homes in those days.

Well, it was at one of these outings that I killed my first bear. I was about thirteen years old, and, of course, in my own mind, it made a mighty hunter of me, not to be compared with Esau of old. It was in June and shortly after we got to camp there was a heavy thunder storm, but it all passed over before sundown, the sun coming out nice and bright. I was determined to go with some of the men to watch a lick (there were three or four licks not far away), but none of the men cared to have my company, and they said it was likely to rain again and made many excuses why I should not go to watch a lick with them. Just before they were ready to start out to the lick we heard a wolf howl away off on the hills and they (the men) put up the wolf scare on me and said that there would be no deer come to the lick so long as wolves were in the neighborhood. I took their stories all in but insisted that I would watch a lick all the same. There was a lick only a few hundred yards from camp, but for some cause deer rarely ever worked it. When they saw that I was going to watch a lick in spite of thunder storms, wolves or all the rest of the excuses that they could make, they finally said that I could watch the lick which I have mentioned and get eaten up by wolves.

There was a blazed line from camp to the lick and when the men started for the licks that each one had decided on watching, I started to the lick that was given me to watch.

There was one man left in camp to watch the horses and to keep camp. This man said that when he heard me shoot he would come up and help me bring in the deer.

The blind at the lick was a scaffold built up in a tree twenty or thirty feet from the ground. I climbed to the scaffold and placed the old gun in the loops that were fastened to limbs on the tree to give the gun the proper range to kill the deer, should one come to the lick after it was too dark to see to shoot.

Nothing came round the lick before dark, but as soon as it got dark I could hear animals walking and jumping on all sides of me and one old inquisitive porcupine came up the tree to see what I was doing. He perched himself on a limb not more than two feet from my face and sat there and chattered his teeth until I could stand it no longer. I took the large powder horn that I had strung over my shoulder with a cord and gave the porcupine a rap on the nose that sent him tumbling down the tree. I remember well how other animals scampered from under the tree when the porcupine tumbled down. At that time I wondered what it all was, but later I learned that all these animals were only flying squirrels, rabbits and porcupines, but I imagined that the noises were made by anything but squirrels and rabbits.

Well, about eleven o'clock I heard something coming towards the lick with a steady tread like that of a man and again I was taken with a chill that caused the scaffold to shake, but the chill only lasted for a moment. Soon I heard the animal step in the soft mud and directly it began to suck the salt from the dirt and I was sure that it was a deer and that it was the right time to pull the trigger, which I did. When the report of the gun died away all that I could hear were the same noises that were made when I knocked the old porcupine from the tree. I now feared that I had pulled the gun on some other animal rather than a deer. I thought the report of the gun would frighten all the deer in the woods, so that no deer would go to the licks the men were watching. I was afraid I would get a terrible scolding by the men who were watching the other licks when they came to camp in the morning.

After waiting some time and hearing no noise of any kind, I concluded to get down and go to camp. Upon getting down from the tree I decided that I would go and look in the lick and see if I could tell what it was that I had heard there and had shot at. As it was so dark that I could not see from the blind, you can imagine my surprise when I got to the lick to see a large buck deer lying broadside as dead as could be.

I immediately lost all fear of being scolded by the other men, so I claimed first blood. I began calling for the man who remained in camp but could get no answer from him so I went down to camp and found him fast asleep. I awakened him and we immediately made a torch and went to the lick and dragged the deer to camp. Then we took out the entrails and bunked down for the rest of the night.

The next thing that I knew, one of the men who had watched a lick not far away was kicking me and saying, "Get out of this, you old deer slayer, you, and get some venison frying for breakfast." We were soon up for the sun was shining brightly and more than an hour high. Soon the other watchers came in and reported that not a sound of a deer had they heard about their licks. Two or three of us (I say "us" because I was now counted as one of them) went to catch trout for breakfast, while the others were at work taking care of the venison and preparing breakfast, boiling coffee, frying venison and trout. And so the day was spent, sleeping, cocking and eating until it was again time to go to the licks, as the men wished to get another deer so as to have plenty of venison to take home with them. When the men were about ready to start to their watching places, one of them inquired of me what I would do as there was no further use of watching the lick where I had killed the deer, as it was blooded from the deer I had killed.

The man who had watched the lick nearest the camp, and quite an old man, said that I could watch the lick that he had watched and he would stay in camp. (The men now acknowledged me as a thoroughbred hunter, you see.) Well, I was getting there pretty lively, I thought, when an old hunter would give up his lick to me, when only the evening before none of the men thought that I was up to watching a lick at any price.

I was pleased to again have a place to watch. Taking some punk wood to make a little smoke to keep off the gnats and mosquitoes, I started for the lick and climbed the Indian ladder to the scaffold, built in a hemlock tree.

I had barely got fixed in shape to begin to watch when I chanced to look towards a small ravine that came down from the hill a few yards to my left and saw what I took to be a black yearling steer. I will add that the woods in that locality were covered with a rank growth of nettles, cow cabbage and other wood's feed, and people would drive their young cattle off into that locality to run during the summer. I thought I would get down from the scaffold and throw stones at it and drive it off lest it might come into the lick after dark and I might take it for a deer and shoot it.

As I started to climb down I again looked in the direction of the steer, and this time I saw what I thought was the largest bear that ever traveled the woods. He had left the ravine and was walking with his head down, going up the hill and past the lick. I cocked both barrels of the gun and raised it carefully to my shoulder, and, breaking a little dry twig I had in my hand caused the bear to stop and turn his head around so as to look down the hill. This was my time so I leveled on his head and shoulders and let go both barrels of the gun at once.

The bear went into the air and then began tumbling and rolling down the hill towards the tree that I was in, bawling and snorting like mad. But if the bear made a howl from pain he was in, it was no comparison to the howl that I made for help and it did not cease until the men in camp came on the run thinking that I had accidentally shot myself. Well, this was my first bear and it was the greatest day of my life.

We took the bear to camp, skinned and dressed it and then went to bunk for the night, but it was very little I slept for I could only think what a mighty hunter I was (in my mind).

The men came in in the morning with no better luck than they had the night before, and they all declared that if I had not been with them they would have had to go without venison.

The men said that we had meat in plenty now and that we would not watch the licks any more that time, so they put in their time jerking the venison and also some of the bear meat. They built a large fire of hemlock bark, and when it was burned down to a bed of coals so that there was no longer any smoke, they made a rack or grate of small poles, laid in crotches driven in the ground, so as to have the grate over the coals, and then laid the slices of venison on this grate and stood green bark about the grate to form a sort of an oven. The strips of meat were first sprinkled with salt and wrapped up in the skin from the deer and allowed to remain wrapped in the skin for a few hours until the salt would strike through the meat so as to make it about right as to salt.

The men remained in camp about a week. They would shoot at a mark, pitch quoits and have jumping contests and other amusements, including fishing, eating trout, venison and bear meat along with toasted bread and coffee and potatoes roasted in the ashes.

* * *

The time had arrived when I thought that I must take to the taller timber to trap and hunt. I searched among the boys of my age, in the neighborhood, for a partner who would go with me to the Big Woods, as the section where I wished to go, was called. I finally found a pard who said he would go with me and stay as long as I cared to.

The middle of October came. We packed our knapsacks with a grub stake, a blanket or two, and taking our guns started for the Big Woods, with a feeling that is not known to those who are not lovers of the wild.

As we only had a limited number of steel traps it was our intention to spend the first week in camp, building deadfalls for coon and mink and use the steel traps for fox. Our intention was to build as many deadfalls as we would be able to attend to before we baited and set any of them. We had built our traps on many of the small brooks and streams to the south and east of the camp, and had built traps on the stream on which the camp was located nearly a mile below camp.

About a mile and a half below camp there was another branch coming in from the north. Pard and I started early one morning to finish the line of traps on the camp stream and then go up the stream that came from the north and build as many traps as we could during the balance of the day. We had finished the line of traps on the camp stream, and had built a trap or two on the other branch, when pard complained of having a bad headache, but refused to go to camp. We built another trap or two, when pard consented to go to camp, if I would build another trap on a little spring run where coon signs were plentiful, which I readily consented to do. When I got the trap done it was nearly sundown.

It was about three miles to camp so I hurried to see how pard was feeling. I had not gone more than a half mile on my way from where pard turned back to go to camp, when I found him lying on the ground. He said that he was feeling so sick that he was unable to go any further and complained that every bone in his body ached.

After explaining to pard the conditions under which we were placed, it was with difficulty that I managed to get him up, and by supporting and half carrying him I managed to get him along a few rods at a time. I could see that he was continually growing worse. After I had helped until we were within about three-quarters of a mile of camp, he begged me to let him lie down and rest. I tried to urge him along by explaining that I must go for a team to get him out of the woods, and that I could not leave him lying there on the damp ground. It was of no use; I could not get him to go any further. While I was somewhat older than pard, he was much the heavier, and I was unable to carry him.

Taking in the situation, there was only one thing for me to do and that was to leave him and go for help. After making him promise that as soon as he rested he would work his way to camp I took off my coat, and put it under him, again making him promise to get to camp, I started for help.

The night was dark and it was miles through the woods to the first house. When I came to camp I stopped long enough to get a bite to eat which I took in my hand. After lighting a fire so if pard did manage to get to camp he would have a good fire, I started for help. Wherever the light would get through the trees enough so that I could see the path, I would take a trot. After the first mile and a half I came to the turnpike road where I could make better time although it was dense woods. After about six or seven miles I reached the first clearing and from there the rest of the way was more or less clearings and I could see the road better and was able to make better time.

I reached pard's home about a mile before I came to my home, rattled at the door and called for pard's father. I told him the condition of his son. He requested me to go to my home and get some of my family to take a team and start back at once after his son; he would go after a doctor and have the doctor there when we got back with the boy. I lost no time in getting started back. We could not get nearer than a mile and a half to the camp, as we were obliged to leave the wagon road at that point, and go down a very steep hill and only a trail cut through the woods. When we reached the camp, contrary to expectations, we found Orlando (that was pard's name) lying in the bunk in camp but he said that he was feeling no better. It was after midnight and we lost no time in getting him on one of the horses and started back to the wagon which we reached with some difficulty. On reaching the wagon we laid him on a straw bed which we had brought for the purpose and got back to his home sometime after daybreak.

WOODCOCK AND BEAR TRAPS--HIS OWN MAKE.

FIFTY YEARS A HUNTER AND TRAPPER

Experiences and Observations of E. N. Woodcockthe noted Hunter and Trapper, as writtenby Himself and Published inH-T-T from 1903 to 1913

EDITED BYA. R. HARDING

Published byA. R. HARDING, PublisherSt. Louis, Mo.Copyright 1913,ByA. R. HARDING.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PREFACE.

A WORD FROM MR. WOODCOCK.

CHAPTER I.Autobiography of E. N. Woodcock.

CHAPTER II.Early Experiences.

WOODCOCK, WIFE, SISTER-IN-LAW, RESIDENCE AND HIS DOG MACK.

CHAPTER III.My First Real Trapping Experience.

CHAPTER IV.Some Early Experiences.

SETTING A LARGE STEEL TRAP FOR BEAR.

* * *

* * *

CHAPTER V.Some Early Experiences (Concluded.)

* * *

Experiences and Observations of E. N. Woodcock
the noted Hunter and Trapper, as written
by Himself and Published in
H-T-T from 1903 to 1913

EDITED BY
A. R. HARDING

Published by
A. R. HARDING, Publisher
St. Louis, Mo.
Copyright 1913,
By
A. R. HARDING.

CHAPTER I.
Autobiography of E. N. Woodcock.

CHAPTER II.
Early Experiences.

CHAPTER III.
My First Real Trapping Experience.

CHAPTER IV.
Some Early Experiences.

CHAPTER V.
Some Early Experiences (Concluded.)