m 
 
 
 
 
 is 
 

 
 
 vS^Wr-- 
 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 

THE HISTORY 
 
 OF 
 
 ONE-DAY-OUT-OF 
 
 SEVENTEEN THOUSAND, 
 
 BY 
 
 JUDGE NUTTING. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY CAROLINE S. KING. 
 
 OSWEGO, N. Y. : 
 
 R. J. OI.IPHANT, PRINTER AND STATIONER. 
 1889. 
 
i>/\ 33 
 
 Nil 
 
 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN 
 
 4-Iov/ I filled my Pir^t 
 
 1WAS a farmer's boy and lived on 
 the old farm where I was born. 
 This old homestead, the dearest spot 
 in all the world to me, was about mid- 
 way between Lake Ontario and Oneida 
 Lake. A swift running spring-brook, 
 called "South Branch of Little Sal- 
 mon," formed the southern boundary 
 of the farm for the distance of a hun- 
 dred rods or more. Our house stood 
 upon a hill, and the farm of over a 
 hundred acres took in not only the hill 
 but the interval land commencing at 
 the foot and stretching southward to the creek above 
 named. The farther bank, of that beautiful stream was 
 
 M313035 
 
4 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 father's south line for a long distance. This interval we 
 called the " Flat." It was a beautful piece of land, easy 
 of tillage and exceedingly fertile. 
 
 When I was a boy ten years of age, October, 1850, 
 this part of the town of West Monroe was comparatively 
 a new country. The original forests still covered a large 
 part of that section. Indeed, my father's farm was sur- 
 rounded with woods. Several small farms, and two as 
 large as father's, were in the same clearing, but you could 
 stand on the hill near our house and look about you to 
 every point of the compass and your vision would meet 
 the large trees of maple, birch, beech and hemlock which 
 had been there for centuries. On a clear day this was a 
 beautiful landscape ; woods all about you, with here and 
 there a neighbor's house, barn and apple orchard in 
 sight ; and at one point, away southward, you could 
 plainly see the glistening waters of the " South Branch." 
 
 We lived in a large, wood-colored house, with two 
 wings. It had a big chimney, which was so placed as to 
 accommodate the whole house. This chimney reached far 
 above the highest point of the roof. At the top the flue was 
 as large as the head of a big barrel. It reached to the 
 kitchen, where there was an immense fire-place. It 
 reached to the square room, or parlor, where there was a 
 smaller fire-place, and it reached to the guest's bedroom 
 where there was a still smaller fire-place. So, in fact, 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 5 
 
 this chimney had a large base and in it were the three 
 fire-places. 
 
 The old kitchen was the place for fun in winter time. 
 Sometimes when the weather was cold and stormy we 
 would trim the kitchen fire-place with evergreens. These 
 would not last long, but would make the great blazing 
 fire look very nice for a time. When the wind howled 
 and the snow filled the air at night we would put a huge, 
 round, solid beech, birch or maple log in the fire-place 
 for a " back-log." This would be a foot and a half 
 through and seven or eight feet long. You should 
 have seen the fire we could build with such a log for a 
 starter. We would pile on the hard wood chips and 
 splinters, pieces of birch bark and sometimes pine knots. 
 The fire would reach far up the chimney and would roar 
 and crackle at a great rate. The whole kitchen, to the 
 farthest corner, would be thoroughly warmed and lighted 
 by it. 
 
 The kitchen was very large, and had a big, square 
 post, painted red, standing in the center. The games 
 and pranks we played about this old post, at these times, 
 still linger in my memory like the aroma of flowers. 
 
 I commenced this story, however, to tell you about 
 the "Old Pill-lock Gun," and the first partridge I ever 
 killed. 
 
 My father had two guns at this time. One was a 
 
6 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 single-barrelled fowling piece, which would weigh about 
 six pounds and a half. Its stock was old, and did not fit 
 very well. It had a round, bronzed barrel, and it was a 
 curious fire-arm, you may be sure. It would shoot like 
 the mischief, when properly loaded, however. Father 
 had killed many a fine bag of game with it in days gone 
 by. 
 
 The old " Pill-lock" was the most striking and curious 
 thing about this gun. The cylinder that went into the 
 barrel at the breech, was like that of any muzzle -loading 
 gun, except, perhaps, it was a trifle larger. In the place 
 of the nipple, which, in a cap lock, receives the percus- 
 sion cap, there was a hole in the top of the cylinder. 
 The lock and hammer were like those in an ordinary gun, 
 except that the hammer was pointed at the end, and the 
 point fitted into the hole in the cylinder. The firing per- 
 cussion was in the shape of a pill, about the size of the 
 small, round sugar pills, used by doctors to cure sick 
 people, and these pills were black, and were kept and 
 carried in a goose quill. When the gun was loaded, we 
 were careful to see that the powder, which had been put 
 in the gun, came in sight in the hole in the cylinder, and 
 then we took one of the little black pills from the goose 
 quill, and put it in the hole so that it would rest on the 
 bottom, where the point of the hammer would strike it, 
 and create the fire that reached the powder in the gun, 
 and explode the charge. 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. J 
 
 There was another gun, which was called the "smooth 
 bore." It had a shorter and thicker barrel, and had once 
 been a rifle. It had been bored out, and would now 
 shoot either shot or a large ball. This gun had a better 
 stock, which reached clear to the muzzle. It was fitted 
 with a cap lock, and was considered, by all who had ever 
 seen it shoot, a first-class gun. 
 
 The two guns hung in the kitchen, side by side, on 
 wooden hooks, which had been made by father, from 
 crooked branches of a tree, and nailed to the ceiling. 
 These two guns were loaded, as a rule, the year 'round. 
 
 Father knew, very well, how to care for a gun, and 
 how to shoot both rifle and shot-gun. He had moved to 
 the old farm when it, and the surrounding country, were 
 covered with forests. The woods were then full of bears, 
 deer, wolves and other animals, and he had learned to 
 handle a gun, and shoot, as well from necessity as pleas- 
 ure. Father was a young man then, and now his hair 
 and beard had begun to turn gray. It was, even now, a 
 very dangerous thing for a hawk to attempt to make a 
 dinner of our chickens when father was about. Nine 
 times out of ten the hawk would pay the penalty of his 
 daring with his life. 
 
 The deer and bears had, been driven away and killed 
 off, and father's love for hunting had to be satisfied by 
 capturing smaller game. He loved to hunt partridges 
 
8 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 when the fall came on and the farm work had been fin- 
 ished. When the potatoes had been dug and put away 
 in the cellar ; when the apples had been carefully picked 
 and barrelled for winter; when the corn had been husked 
 and piled in a great yellow heap in the crib, and when 
 the wood for winter had been housed, then it was that 
 the old hunting fever came on and the partridge, wood- 
 cock and squirrel had to hide carefully or they were gone. 
 For two or three years in the fall, father had let me 
 go with him on these hunting trips. I had not been 
 allowed to carry a gun, though I fairly ached to do so. 
 When I first commenced to go on these hunting trips, I 
 was so small that father some times helped me over large 
 logs, piles of brush and muddy places. I had fired the 
 old pill-lock gun a few times to scare the crows from the 
 corn or at a flock of pigeons passing over, but I had as 
 yet only learned the a, b, c of gun lore. With my limited 
 experience and few years, I was on this October morning 
 to have a gun fully loaded and was to commence hunting 
 in earnest. Father had told me this while caring for the 
 chores that very morning. When breakfast time came 
 and we all sat about the table, I found that my appetite 
 had failed ; the excitement, caused by the expected hunt, 
 had taken away the desire for food. My father had 
 noticed this and said, " Young man, you must eat a good 
 breakfast so that you will be strong for the tramp," and 
 in obedience I managed to follow the advice. 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 9 
 
 Breakfast was over and yet the sun was hardly in sight 
 over the tall trees on the highlands to the eastward. The 
 dew which had gathered during the night, still glistened 
 among the grasses of the low lands like diamonds, when 
 I heard father whistle for " Snap," a beautiful little 
 spaniel, who came bounding and barking into the house. 
 Father reached up and lifted the "Old Pill-lock Gun" off 
 the hooks and carefully placed it in my hands. I shall 
 never forget the feelings of pride and happiness which swept 
 over me as I took that gun. 
 
 Father said, "There is a gun, loaded with death 
 and destruction. You are to be a hunter in earnest to- 
 day. I have lost my boy to carry game, but I have found 
 a brave hunter." As he said this his face lighted up with 
 a smile and he reached up and took from the hooks the 
 smooth bore. 
 
 Just as we were about to go, I heard my mother's voice 
 calling me; I found her in the square room about her 
 household duties. I went up to her and she put one hand 
 on one side of my face and the. other hand on the other 
 side and kissed me. As she did this, she said "Be care- 
 ful now and not hurt yourself or your father, and bring 
 me a partridge of your own killing, and I will see that it 
 is cooked fit for a king." 
 
 My mother was tall and straight, and had dark hair 
 and large, dark gray eyes. She was a beautiful woman, 
 
10 THE OCD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 and as good, loving and patient as she was beautiful. 
 God bless, keep and guard her down to the end, for she 
 yet lives at nearly eighty. I will, perhaps, tell you more 
 about her some other time. 
 
 I passed out of the door, and as I did I saw father 
 standing in the road with the butt of his gun resting on 
 the ground and he was gazing off over the eastern hills. 
 We started in the direction he was looking, across the 
 meadow and pasture land of a neighbor. We looked for 
 no gates or bars, but we went right on over the fences 
 when they came in our way. We paid no attention to 
 roads or paths ; we made our own roads and paths. The 
 dog " Snap " ran here and there, happy as a lark and 
 handsome as a picture. He loved to hunt as well as 
 father or I. He was a long-eared, curly-haired, liver- 
 colored Spaniel, and was well trained and exceedingly in- 
 telligent. In memory, I can see father now as he walked 
 along on that beautiful morning. He was six feet and an 
 inch in height, and weighed about one hundred and 
 seventy pounds and was as straight as an arrow. His 
 complexion was dark; his nose long and straight; his 
 eyes were as sharp as an eagles ; his hair curled a little ; 
 his hands and feet were small and well shaped, and he 
 stepped as spry and light as a fox. He sleeps the, long, 
 last sleep now, but I remernber him so well that I know I 
 have given you a good description of him. 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. II 
 
 We soon came near the woods, and words are feeble 
 agents with which to describe how beautiful the leaves and 
 branches were as they stood out between the sky and us. 
 The early frosts had here and there touched the foliage 
 and in obedience to that touch, there appeared the beauti 
 ful colorings seen in a western New York forest in Autumn. 
 
 Just before we reached Hess' sugar bush father said : 
 " You must always carry your gun so the muzzle points 
 away from any one who is with you and also away from 
 yourself. Then if it should accidentally be discharged no 
 one will be hurt. When you are in the woods, you must 
 guard against the hammer of your gun being pulled back 
 by coming in contact with bush or vine, as I once knew a 
 gun to be discharged and do mischief in that way." 
 
 We had now reached the underbrush which fringed 
 the woods. This was an old blackberry patch and a beauti- 
 ful hide for partridges. Father said to the dog, " Go hunt 
 them up." The spaniel disappeared like a flash. We 
 stepped into and through the brush and briars to the 
 forest of tall sugar maples. The ground was covered 
 with fallen leaves, and the ferns, which had been sheltered 
 from the frost by the branches and leaves overhead, 
 still were very beautiful and graceful as they bowed now 
 and then in the morning breeze. 
 
 The dog was at work in the brush skirting the woods. 
 We kept along opposite the dog as near as we could. We 
 
12 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 knew where he was by the small dry twigs which were 
 broken as he ran here and there. Father said, " If there 
 are any birds in there, he will rustle them out sure, and 
 if any birds are flushed they will fly out of the brush by 
 us and down the hill to our left to find a hiding place 
 among the branches of those hemlocks you can just see by 
 the borders of ' Benson's creek.' If we are quick and 
 sharp when the birds pass us, we shall get one or two. 
 If we are not lucky enough to shoot them on the wing, 
 we will try and hunt them up after they have secreted 
 themselves among the branches of the trees." 
 
 Sure enough, as we were walking along with our eyes 
 and ears ready to catch the first sight or sound from the 
 bushes, we heard the dog jump and give a series of sharp 
 barks or screams. At once there was a great flutter of 
 wings and up out from the bushes came three partridges, 
 one after the other. They were as big as good sized 
 chickens and like a flash they started across our path and 
 down the hill towards the hemlock. I forgot I had a gun, 
 but with eyes strained, looked after the birds as they 
 went by like the wind. Not so with father. He stood a 
 little to the left of me and in the direction the birds were 
 going. The tall, graceful ferns came up to his knees. 
 His left foot was a little in advance of the other ; his gun 
 was to his face just a moment and I saw the end of the 
 smooth bore following the course of the birds. Just a 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 13 
 
 moment, a mere item of time, and there was a flash and 
 a roar and off to our left I heard a " thud " as one of the 
 birds caught by the shot from the gun fell in the leaves. 
 
 I first thought of my gun just as the bird father had 
 killed struck the ground. But it was too late. My 
 chance had passed for that time. 
 
 My father was as handsome as a picture as he stood 
 there and loaded the old smooth bore. His face was 
 slightly flushed and an exquisite smile lighted up his 
 usually sober face. I noticed his hand when he loaded 
 the gun and it was as steady as could be, but the fire of 
 excitement burned in his keen eye. 
 
 The dog brought the partridge in his mouth and laid 
 it at father's feet and looked up into his face, whined a 
 little and moved his tail, saying plainly in dog language, 
 " You are the lad for me." The spaniel never noticed 
 me at all, he no doubt blamed me because I had not 
 killed one of the birds. Any way he acted very coolly 
 towards me. 
 
 Father lifted the partridge by the bill. It was a father 
 bird and had a beautiful black ruffle of feathers about his 
 neck. He had a tail which, when spread, was as large as 
 a lady's fan and of the same shape. The feathers of the 
 tail were very beautiful ; each one was black at a point 
 near the end, though the very end was light colored, so 
 that when the tail was spread there was a border all the 
 
14 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 way round the tail, and also a light border all the way 
 round at the end of the feathers. The feathers on the 
 body of the bird were mottled white and black, so per- 
 fectly mingled that the color was neither white or black. 
 Light colored feathers grew away down the legs to the 
 feet and the feet were like a chicken's, except they were 
 black or very dark colored. It was a noble bird and no 
 mistake. 
 
 Father said, " There my boy, that is the way to do it, 
 why didn't you kill one ? " I owned up that I had been 
 so excited that I had forgotten my gun until the birds had 
 gone and, in fact, till his bird struck the ground. He 
 said, " Well never mind, you have not been in the habit 
 of shooting and it is no wonder you forgot your gun the 
 first time, you will soon get used to it, however, and then 
 you will give a good account of yourself." Father put 
 the bird in his hunting sack, which hung over one 
 shoulder, and we started on down the hill in the direction 
 the other birds had gone. 
 
 These birds are very cunning in the way they will 
 hide from a hunter in a tree. They usually light on an 
 evergreen because it gives better opportunity to secrete 
 themselves. They light on a limb, high up, and sit close 
 to the body of the tree. They sit very straight and still. 
 It takes a sharp eye to find them when thus hidden. 
 
 We went down among the hemlocks and looked every 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 15 
 
 one over carefully, but could not see a feather. We 
 walked round each tree and examined it the best we could 
 and finally gave it up and passed beyond the trees down 
 to the margin of the brook which here ran over a pebbly 
 bottom. Just as we reached the water we heard a rustle 
 and flutter of wings up toward one of the hemlocks we 
 had passed and examined, and out jumped one of the 
 partridges we had looked for. She flew right back toward 
 the spot she had started from. The dog pricked up his 
 ears and whined and father said, " Never mind we will 
 let her go ; she is so frightened that she would fly again 
 before we could get in gun shot of her if we attempted to 
 look her up." 
 
 We passed down the creek a little ways until we found 
 some stones which came above the surface of the water, 
 on which we could cross the stream dry shod. I was 
 thirsty and spoke of taking a drink of the water from the 
 brook, but father told me to wait a little while and he 
 would show me a spring from which I could satisfy my 
 thirst. Just as we reached the other side of the stream 
 I saw some tracks in the soft soil near the water. I called 
 my father's attention to them and asked what they were 
 and he said, " They are the tracks of a coon, these tracks 
 were made last night ; he went to the corn-field after soft 
 corn, or perhaps he was looking along here after clams." 
 The tracks looked liked a medium sized dog's tracks, only 
 
l6 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 they were long and slim and you could see the nails were 
 sharp. I asked father if we could not hunt the coon up. 
 He said, " It would be a very difficult thing to find him as 
 he is now no doubt secreted a long distance from here in 
 the hollow of some tree asleep, and will not stir out again 
 till night." 
 
 We went on, over a beech ridge, and down into a 
 ravine. As we came near the bottom, I heard the musi- 
 cal sound of running water. A few paces further down 
 we stepped around a bush of alders, and there, just be- 
 fore us, was a boiling spring, as big as a dining-table. 
 The water bubbled up from a dozen places in the bottom, 
 and though the water in the spring was quite deep, you 
 could see the smallest particle on the bottom it was so 
 clear. I was about to kneel, and drink of the clear, 
 sparkling waters. Father told me to wait a moment, 
 and he stood his gun beside a tree, and stepped a few 
 paces away. When he returned, he had two large leaves 
 of the basswood tree. He handed me one, and then took 
 the other, and, with a few movements of the fingers, 
 fashioned the leaf into a drinking cup, somewhat like a 
 cornucopia. He stooped down, and carefully filled it 
 part full of the sweet water of the spring, and held it to 
 my lips, and I drank from it what now seems the sweet- 
 est draught that I ever tasted. Father smiled, and cast 
 the leaf from him; took the other from my hand and 
 made a second cup, and himself drank heartily. 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 17 
 
 He then picked up his gun, and was about to start on, 
 but he stopped, lowered the gun, and stood and gazed 
 long and silently upon the waters of the spring. He 
 looked like a piece of statuary, as he stood there the 
 woods all about, and the beautiful spring just in front of 
 him. I asked him what he was thinking about. He 
 started, and looked at me, and said, "It is thirty years 
 since the first time I saw that spring. I was twenty-one 
 years of age, and these waters bubbled up and ran away, 
 just as they do now. All these years has this spring 
 been noiselessly sending forth to the world that same life- 
 giving water. It never gets weary, nor does it stop for a 
 moment in its good work. The Divine Being, to whom 
 we are all accountable, and who guides us all our lives, 
 if we will let him, furnishes the fountain somewhere in 
 the hills. This spring, my boy, should teach us a lesson 
 in life. It should teach us that the things that come 
 from God's hands are pure and clean. It should teach 
 us not to stop in our efforts to do our fellow-men good. 
 It should teach us to do acts of love without show or 
 noise. It does tell us that God has provided, and will 
 provide for all the beings dependent upon him." 
 
 He had forgotten, and I am sure I had, where we were. 
 But just at this time the dog ran down the stream a little 
 and looked up and barked, and we saw, on looking over 
 his head, a black squirrel about to jump from the top of 
 
l8 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 one tree to another. Father said, " Shoot him just as he 
 stops to gather for the leap." Up went the old "Pill- 
 lock," and as the squirrel was about to jump I fired at 
 him. My ! how the old gun kicked and smoked. When 
 the smoke had cleared away, no other execution had 
 been done except to detach a few leaves from the branches 
 of the trees overhead by the shot, which came circling 
 to the ground. I also found that a small piece of the 
 skin from my right cheek had been loosened. The squir- 
 rel, as lively as a cricket, had now gone to the body of 
 the tree and concealed himself away up toward the top. 
 We could not see him for he kept very still. Father said, 
 " He is on the other side of the trunk, and will keep the 
 body of the tree between himself and us if he can. You 
 walk round that side of the tree, and as you come in sight 
 so he can see you, he will come around on this side, and, 
 before he knows it, I shall get a shot at him." So I 
 walked around the tree, and as I came nearly opposite 
 father, I saw him raise his gun quickly. I looked away 
 up in the tree, and saw the squirrel run out on the end 
 of a branch toward another tree. He stopped a moment 
 to get ready to jump and father fired. I heard a sharp, 
 cutting sound as the shot sped on its way, and then saw 
 the leaves and bark about the squirrel fly, and the squirrel 
 dropped off the limb. He did not come down, how- 
 ever ; he hung by his paws to the limb a moment, his 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 21 
 
 long, bushy tail hanging straight. I was about to fire, 
 but was stopped by my father's saying, " Don't shoot; 
 he is dead enough and will come down soon." Just then 
 his paws loosened and he fell through the lower branches 
 to the leaves at our feet. 
 
 The dog was about to pounce upon him, but father 
 stopped him and went and picked him up. He held him 
 in his hand and smoothed his black hair and long, bushy 
 tail. It was a beautiful animal, as black as coal, long, 
 slender body, strong limbs and paws, a cunning head, 
 with long, slim front teeth, and cute ears that stood 
 straight out from his head. He had long hairs at the 
 side of his mouth like the hairs r about a cat's mouth we 
 call " whiskers." His tail was as long as his body and 
 covered to the tip with beautiful black hair. He would 
 weigh two pounds and a half. Father put him away in 
 his game bag with the partridge, loaded his gun and on 
 we started. 
 
 In a very short time we came to the main stream of 
 that part of the country, called " South Branch." It is 
 quite a large stream. It is two or three rods across, and 
 runs still and deep at this point. It is the same stream 
 that passes to the south of our house. As we came to 
 the water, father stopped and said, " Just across the 
 creek, there, in that low ground among the elms, we 
 sometimes find a wood-cock, even at this time of the year. 
 
22 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 The most of these birds go south before this, but, now 
 and then, one stays till nearly the first of November. 
 We will go down to a log, which reaches across the stream 
 just below here, and go over and see if the dog cannot 
 find one of these beautiful and curious birds." So we 
 walked down along the margin of the still-running stream, 
 a little way, and, sure enough, there we found an old, 
 moss-covered log, reaching from bank to bank. It 
 looked as if it had been there for many years, as, no 
 doubt, it had. Father carried both guns, as we crossed. 
 We reached the other side safely, though I took the pains 
 to hang on to the alders that came within my reach, on 
 the way over. If wood-cock could be found in this cover, 
 they would be along the margin of the stream, in the 
 thick alders. So father stationed me a little way from 
 the spot where we stepped upon the shore. I stood be- 
 tween two great elm trees, that were about two rods 
 apart. I faced up the stream, and, at the suggestion of 
 father, I cocked my gun. Father and the dog took a 
 roundabout way, up the creek, keeping some distance 
 from the water. They went twenty-five or thirty rods, 
 and then turned to the left, and went to the margin of 
 the creek. I heard father say, " Look them up," to the 
 dog. Then it was that every sense I had was on the 
 alert. I heard father and the dog come along down the 
 creek, and when they had reached about half way to me 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 23 
 
 the dog gave one of his sharp, warning barks. I saw a 
 puff of smoke in the thick brush, and then heard the re- 
 port of the "smooth bore," and in half a second the 
 shot rattled in the branches of the elm over my head. 
 Just then my eye caught sight of the bird coming right 
 toward me. The old " Pill-lock" was to my face in an 
 instant, and, taking a quick aim, I fired. The next 
 thing I remember I was picking myself up out of the 
 leaves. The old "Pill-lock" lay at my side, smoking 
 from the muzzle, as innocent as could be, but it had 
 downed me. 
 
 Father was near me and reached down his hand and 
 grasped mine and helped me up, and, as he did so, he said, 
 "Did you kill the bird? " While he asked the question, he 
 rubbed his hand along my right arm, and said, "No bones 
 broken, let us look for the bird. " I picked up the old gun, 
 and father loaded it, and we started to search for the game. 
 I noticed father did not look as though he expected to 
 find anything, and I confess I felt that way myself. After 
 a little, father inquired where the bird was when I fired. 
 I told him, as near as I could, and also stated the course 
 the bird was flying. I told father that I did not see the 
 bird after I fired, but I first saw smoke, and lots, of it, 
 and then I saw stars, and many of them, and that was all 
 I recollected about it. The bird was somewhere, how- 
 ever, dead or alive, and, with the dog, we set about find- 
 
24 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 ing it. We started slowly down the stream, the way the 
 bird was flying when I fired. 
 
 We had not gone far when father called to me to come 
 where he was. When I reached him, he pointed his 
 finger and said: " Do you see that little bushy hemlock 
 near that pool of water ? Well, look along down its stem 
 to the ground and then to the left near that old dark 
 colored chunk of wood." I did as I was told, and there, 
 not more than a rod from us, sat the wood-cock with his 
 long bill, his big round eyes and long legs. I started to 
 pull up my gun but father put his hand on the barrel and 
 said, " You are too near, you will spoil the bird to shoot 
 it from here." So we stepped back about three rods and 
 then father said, " Shoot now." I raised the old "Pill- 
 lock " and put it fairly against my shoulder, took quick 
 aim and fired. As the smoke cleared away we walked up 
 and there lay the bird dead. I had taken him on the 
 ground to be sure, but I had taken him. 
 
 Let me give young hunters a bit of advice right here 
 about wood-cock shooting. When you get a chance to 
 kill a wood-cock, kill him. Don't insist on his being on 
 the wing when you shoot at him, if you do perhaps you 
 won't shoot him, that's all. 
 
 I felt pretty well. I had a wood-cock and father had 
 a partridge and a squirrel. Father offered to carry my 
 bird, but I respectfully and firmly declined. I carefully 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 25 
 
 tucked the bird away in the pocket of my home-made 
 blouse. My step was light and easy after that. I was a 
 full fledged hunter and with a record at that. The record 
 was short, but it was a record. 
 
 We now re-crossed the creek on the same log we had 
 used as a bridge when we came over, and started toward 
 home, but not over the route we had come. We went 
 toward what was then known as " Dick's slash." This 
 was forty or fifty acres of land that once had been original 
 forest and had been " slashed " or cut over and again 
 partly covered with underbrush and was a favorite place 
 for partridges. We started down the creek and kept near 
 it. We soon came to the roots of a white birch which 
 branched out from the tree on the surface of the ground 
 so that they made an excellent seat. 
 
 It was now a little after mid-day and father leaned his 
 gun against the birch, where it was within reach, and sat 
 down upon the root. I sat down near him and laid my 
 gun on the ground beside me. We were perhaps two 
 rods from the creek, but in sight of it. Father took his 
 hunting bag off his shoulder and, much to my surprise, 
 took from it a bundle, carefully done up in brown paper. 
 He undid the string and spread out on the clean bark of 
 the root a luncheon. I did not know he had such a thing. 
 I tell you it looked good. There was dried beef, chicken 
 sandwiches, fried cakes, boiled eggs, a little paper of salt 
 
26 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 and pepper mixed, and some bread and butter all pre- 
 pared and the pieces put together. It was as neat and 
 clean, seemingly, as when he had taken it from home. 
 
 We ate of the luncheon for a little and I said that 
 some water would be agreeable, and at once started for 
 the creek. " Hold on," said my father, " That is pretty 
 good water but don't drink it. Go out there where you 
 see that old tree top and by the rock just beyond you 
 will find a spring. You might as well know where these 
 things are first as last. As you go along look close and 
 you will find a small gourd shell hanging in the tree top 
 by a wire loop." I followed directions and found the 
 shell and the moss-covered rock at the foot of a birch and 
 from under the rock, and from crevices in it, came sweet 
 water in abundance. I filled the gourd and drank all I 
 wanted and again filled it and carried it to father. He 
 drank and then held the cup and looked at it and the 
 sparkling water in it and drank again and again. I asked 
 how the gourd came there and was told that many years 
 before it had been brought there on purpose by father so 
 that he could catch the cool water as it dripped from the 
 moss, and that it had been there ever since. We set 
 about finishing our lunch, at times feeding the spaniel 
 from our hands, who ate, and drank from the creek alter- 
 nately. 
 
 My father said, "You seem to enjoy this my boy, it 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 2/ 
 
 is natural you should. This is your first real hunt, you 
 are just commencing, and my hunts are fast coming to an 
 end. You see your sun of life always in the east and the 
 journey of life to you seems to be a long one. I see my 
 sun of life always in the west and the journey of life seems 
 short. Life is a curious state. You cannot comprehend 
 it and you will never be able to explain it to yourself even. 
 You are now about ten years of age. Before you realize 
 it you will be fifty and when you are fifty, I will sleep my 
 last sleep. My labors and cares in life are drawing to a 
 close, yours are just commencing. You will find this life 
 that now looks so pleasant and rosy to you, unsatisfactory. 
 You will long for something beyond, and there is some- 
 thing worth longing for after this life is passed. I can't 
 express to you how anxious I am that you should choose 
 the right way and the "better part." There are stum- 
 bling blocks and dangerous places along the journey of 
 life and you must find them and pass them safely. I 
 know where some of these dangerous places are, for I 
 have stumbled there. I will tell you about a few of them 
 now and about others at some future time. 
 
 You have been on journeys with me and have noticed 
 when we came to a point on our way where there were 
 three or four roads leading in different directions, that 
 some person who knew where all the roads led, had 
 erected a sign-board, the arms of which pointed along 
 
28 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 the roads and the point to which each road would lead 
 you was plainly marked on the arms, so that even a 
 stranger could find the right way. 
 
 We have no such sign-boards on life's highway. There 
 are as many highways in life's journey as there are persons. 
 The only guides we have on this journey of life, are the 
 teachings of the Divine Father as found in the Bible and 
 the actual experience of those who have made the journey, 
 or part of it. Do you see that dwarfed and scraggy elm 
 yonder by the margin of the creek ? That elm has a 
 good place to grow ; the ground where it stands is a rich 
 loam which has accumulated from falling leaves and 
 branches in the many ages of the past. The roots 
 reach down into the rich soil and feed upon it and are 
 continually refreshed by the waters of the creek. There 
 are no large trees very near it, to shade it and obstruct 
 its growth. Still, with all these advantages, the trunk is 
 small, not more than ten inches through, and it is not 
 nearly as tall as some of the trees about it which are 
 located not so favorably. 
 
 Look up the trunk twenty or thirty feet near that limb 
 which grows out to the north-east, and you will see a hole 
 in the body of the tree/ This shows the tree is hollow, 
 dead at the heart and unhealthy. Well, my boy, I have 
 known that tree for twenty years. Away back when the 
 bears, deer and wolves were plenty here, I knew that tree. 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 29 
 
 I once killed a deer near where we are seated and hung it 
 on the branches of that tree so the wolves could not get it 
 'till I went home for help to carry it. Let me see, that 
 was twenty years, yes more than twenty years ago. That 
 tree was as large then as now. You naturally wonder at 
 this. Listen and I will explain it. Look carefully at the 
 top branches of the tree. See how bunchy and thick they 
 are, The limbs look as though they had all grown to- 
 gether. That effect, and in fact the whole trouble with 
 the tree, is caused by a wild grape vine. Just step 'round 
 this way a moment ; now look along up the body of the 
 tree from the ground. Do you not see that long, smooth 
 vine, about as big as your wrist, running up the tree ? 
 That is a wild grape vine and is as old or nearly as old as 
 the tree. The gra'pe vine was there when I first saw the 
 tree only it was not so large. It has hung to the tree all 
 these years and has grown stronger and larger all the 
 time. It has kept the tree from growing by binding its 
 strong tendrils about the branches, and you can see where 
 the vine itself winds around the tree, there is a whitish 
 mark. That is where the tough body of the grape vine 
 has chafed and wounded the bark of the tree when the 
 wind was strong and made the tree rock to and fro. That 
 vine, in its effect on that tree, has been that of a great 
 vegetable snake. It has held the tree down ; it has re- 
 tarded its growth ; it has wounded it and made it unsightly 
 
30 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 and the other trees about it have outgrown it, and have 
 kept smooth, healthy and handsome. 
 
 Well, my boy, let me tell you, that vine is to that tree 
 what sin and wrong is to a boy. If a boy does wrong, 
 commits a sin and does not get rid of its effects, such as 
 profanity, drinking intoxicating beverages, smoking and 
 chewing tobacco, or untruthfulness, until he gets the habit 
 fastened on him, then the sin or wrong will weigh and tie 
 the boy down. It will chafe and wound him. It will 
 make him small in mind and perhaps dwarfed in body. 
 This will give other boys, who have no such bad habits, a 
 chance to get the start of him in the race of life. So you 
 will see you can learn a life lesson from the elm and the 
 grape vine which may, and I hope will, be of use to you 
 hereafter. 
 
 I have now finished my lesson and have a notion to 
 tell you a hunting story, the end of which was near this 
 spot. It will not take long, and we ought to rest a little 
 after eating. 
 
 A long time ago, when I still lived with my father, 
 and when I was seventeen years of age, while we were on a 
 deer hunting trip, my father and I came near the "Turtle 
 Ponds," to the eastward of Tamerack Swamp, about a 
 mile from here. You will recollect that I spoke to you 
 about these ponds one day while we were looking for the 
 pole which we raised on the corner to put a flag on. 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 31 
 
 Well, as we came near one of these small ponds we dis- 
 covered the tracks of a bear and found where he had gone 
 down to the pond to drink. There seemed to be a sort 
 of path where the animals went down the bank to get 
 water, for there were other bear tracks besides those which 
 had attracted our notice. There was no chance of getting 
 the animal then, but my father said that if the bear trap 
 was skillfully placed in or near that path, so the brute 
 would not notice it, the old fellow might be caught. It 
 was about three miles home, but the next day, with the 
 consent of my father, and after some instructions from 
 him, I took the old bear trap and started for the turtle 
 ponds. This old bear trap weighed about thirty pounds 
 and when set was an ugly customer. In order to bend 
 the springs, so as to open the jaws and set the trap, we 
 were obliged to use a hand-spike or long lever of wood. 
 When the jaws were open it was as big as a ten quart 
 pan, and when the jaws came together with nothing be- 
 tween them you could hear them twenty rods. There 
 was a strong iron chain, about five feet long, securely 
 fastened to a ring in the trap, and to the other end of the 
 chain was a ring about two inches in diameter. This 
 trap made a heavy load to carry, especially as I had with 
 me a hatchet and gun. 
 
 Well, I arrived at the spot where we had seen the 
 bear tracks, and found that the night before one or more 
 
32 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 bears had traveled down the same road to the water. 
 After a good deal of work, I succeeded in opening the 
 jaws of the trap and fastening them open by the strong 
 iron tongue prepared for that purpose. Then I cut down 
 a water beech, which had a stem about an inch and a 
 half in diameter, and which had long, tough limbs. This 
 little tree was about eight feet long. For about three 
 feet from the butt end, I clipped the ends of the limbs off 
 so as to leave them next the body about a foot long. 
 Then I put the butt end of the little tree through the 
 ring on the end of the chain to the trap and bent down 
 the stubs of limbs I had left on it, and slipped the ring 
 by the stubs one after another until the ring was up past 
 several and next to the limbs which I had left as they 
 grew. There the trap was and there the "clog" was. 
 Slowly and carefully I moved the trap and clog along 
 towards the pond, so that I would make as little stir in 
 the leaves as possible, and so the trap would remain set. 
 At first I was quite troubled where to put the trap so that 
 the wary animals would not notice it and so that they 
 would not smell it. There was a log about ten inches 
 through, about half way down the bank to the water that 
 lay across the path, or partial road the animals had made, 
 and I made up my mind that on the water side of that log 
 was the spot to place the old trap, so I calculated about how 
 far a bear in going down to the water would, when he 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 33 
 
 stepped over the log, step beyond the log, and after a 
 good deal of trouble, placed the trap at that point. I 
 put the tree to which the trap was fastened on one side 
 of the path and carefully covered up the chain. I worked 
 some time to leave the ground looking natural and re- 
 move my own tracks by the liberal use of leaves and 
 branches. After I fixed it all up as well as I could, I 
 started for home, where I arrived about dark. 
 
 After going to bed, I got to thinking about the trap 
 and the bear, and wondering if I should be lucky enough 
 to get him, and it was a long time before I went to sleep. 
 Finally, I did sleep, and, before morning, I dreamed that 
 a big bear had attempted to go down to the water, and 
 had stepped into the trap, and the trap had fastened to 
 one of his legs, above his big fore-foot, and the trap, 
 bear and clog were gone. I dressed and hurried down 
 stairs, about daylight, and told my father, who was awake, 
 what I had dreamed, and asked to be allowed to go and 
 see if my dream was true. He laughed, and said, 
 " Your dream comes from excitement of your yesterday's 
 experience, and from your continual thought about the 
 matter. I guess you have not caught a cunning, old bear 
 as quick as this." I urged my suit, however, and, finally, 
 was given permission to go. I took down the rifle, that 
 always hung ready and loaded in those days, and took 
 the powder horn off the hook, and put the string over 
 
34 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 my head, so the crook of the horn hung under my left 
 arm, and called the dog. We had a big dog, whose 
 name was "Buff," and he had helped to kill many a 
 bear and deer. He came to me and signified not only 
 his willingness, but his delight to go. 
 
 Away we went, in the early dawn of a November 
 morning. The air was quite cold, but my blood was up, 
 and I was warm enough. Across the back fields, to the 
 eastward, I went, and struck into the woods, in the direc- 
 tion of "Turtle Pond," at a swinging pace. After trav- 
 eling for about half the distance to my destination, I 
 happened to think about my ammunition, and at once it 
 occurred to me that I had not a single bullet with me, 
 except the one in the gun. This was a discovery which 
 made me fairly weak. I sat down on a log, and ex- 
 amined every pocket I had carefully. There was powder 
 enough in the horn, patches in a little box in the stock 
 of the gun, but not a single spare bullet. Here I was 
 alone in the woods, half way to the trap, expecting to find 
 a bear foot in it, and I had only one shot for the fight 
 which was sure to come. At first I thought I would go 
 back and get the pouch of bullets, but, after a little 
 thought, I made up my mind to trust to the one bullet 
 and the dog. I, however, pulled the pan back, and 
 carefully examined the powder in that, felt of the flint, 
 to see it was tight and the edge clean, put the old gun 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 35 
 
 on my shoulder, set my lips together, and again started 
 for the "Turtle Pond." 
 
 In about twenty minutes, I reached the hemlock ridge 
 that skirted the little pond where the trap was put. In 
 another minute I was standing by the side just below which 
 I had placed the trap. The trap was gone. The ground 
 had been torn up, the bushes just about there broken 
 down, and to the eastward I could see where the bear had 
 gone dragging the trap and clog with him. The old dog 
 whined and showed his teeth, the hair on his back raised 
 up from his head to his tail, and he started on the plain 
 marked trail of the bear, and I started on after the dog. 
 In a few rods we came to an old hemlock tree top to which 
 the trail led. I expected to find here either the bear held 
 fast by trap and clog in the old limbs, or the trap from 
 which the bear had loosened himself. But not so, the 
 trail led right through a part of the top and here and there 
 I found the hemlock limbs knocked completely off or 
 broken and the old bear had made a road through that 
 top where a good sized ox could go with ease. When I 
 saw this, I knew he was a big brute and an ugly fellow, 
 and I knew too that the old trap had got a good hold and 
 that the tough water beech clog was standing the strain 
 beautifully. The dog kept ahead quite away, though 
 now and then I made him go slower so I could keep up. 
 We could follow the trail as easy as though you had been 
 along there and mowed a swath with a scythe. 
 
36 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 The trail led toward this creek above here about half 
 a mile. Soon we came to the creek and there the trail 
 turned westward, partially back toward the hemlock swamp, 
 which was no doubt the home of the bear. I made up 
 my mind from what I saw, that the bear was not far off, 
 and since he had failed to cross the creek, I knew he did 
 not wish to cross it with the trap and clog hanging to 
 him. I knew every bend in the creek then, as well as 
 now. I thought I knew where he would go. I started 
 to cut across to get ahead of him. I reached a point 
 about eighty rods above here, near where Benson's 
 orchard is, and I heard the dog bark and the bear growl. 
 I had got ahead and the dog had come up with the bear 
 and they were coming slowly towards me. Now and 
 then I could hear the bear snarl and the dog growl and 
 bark, and then it would be quiet again. Then the same 
 thing would occur, each time it would be nearer to me, 
 and they seemed to be coming right toward me. At last I 
 heard the chain rattle about six or seven rods from me 
 in the brush near an old fallen tree, the trunk of which 
 ran near where I stood, and there ended at the stump. 
 The dog again, at this point, tackled the bear, and the 
 bear turned on him and the old chain and trap rattled 
 at a great rate. 
 
 The old bear growled and snarled enough to make 
 one's hair stand on end. Then the bear started along 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 37 
 
 the old tree trunk, toward the stump, but on ^the other 
 side. It at once occurred to me that when the bear 
 came in sight, near the stump, was the time for me to 
 kill him with my one bullet. 
 
 Along the bear came. He could not travel fast, for 
 he had to drag the trap, chain, and clog, and he had 
 been worried by the dog, until he was tired. Every 
 time he put down his fore paw, I could hear the trap and 
 chain rattle. The clog would, now and then, strike a 
 small shrub or tree, and make it sway and tremble, and I 
 could see over the old log, just where the bear was all 
 the time. I cocked and put the old flint rifle to^my face, 
 and aimed it about where I thought the bear would 
 come in sight by the stump. I was as steady as a post, 
 and never thought I had but one bullet, and was about 
 to shoot at a beast that was king of that forest, and as 
 angry as angry could be. I glanced along the long 
 barrel of the rifle, and saw the front sight plainly through 
 the back sight. I did not even breathe, and my heart 
 seemed for a moment to have stopped beating. Just 
 then the large nose of the bear appeared, and his great, 
 shaggy head. Steadily I let the nose and the head ap- 
 pear, though it was but a flash of time, and when the ear 
 appeared in sight, I dropped the gun muzzle so the sight 
 covered the butt of his ear and pulled the trigger. A 
 flash of powder in the pan, with a puff of smoke, and 
 
38 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 the sharp, whiff-like crack of the rifle came, and I knew 
 the bullet had started on its journey. The sound of the 
 rifle went in and out among the great trees of the forest, 
 till it died away in the far distance. When the smoke 
 which the discharge had made floated away, I looked for 
 the bear, and there he lay in a great heap, just on the 
 spot where he was when I fired. 
 
 I ran up with my hatchet, to give any additional 
 blow needed, but none was required. The old bear that 
 used to drink at " Turtle Pond" was dead. 
 
 There the old trap was fast to his leg, just above his 
 big foot. He was a monster, and would weigh full four 
 hundred pounds. The one bullet, in the right place, 
 had sent him to his long home. The old bear, in his 
 struggles, had bent and partly broken the clog, but it 
 still hung to the chain. 
 
 I stood my gun beside a tree, took off my coat, and, 
 with my hunting knife, removed the skin, being careful 
 to leave the long, sharp claws of the feet attached to .it. 
 I had some hard work to unclasp the trap from the bear's 
 foot, but I finally accomplished it, and took the faithful 
 old iron, and hid it carefully, covering it with a large 
 piece of hemlock bark, to keep it dry. 
 
 I cut off fifteen or twenty pounds of the best of the 
 meat and laid it on the inside of the skin. I then searched 
 till I found a moose wood tree and peeled some long strips 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 41 
 
 of the bark from it, I then rolled the skin up in as small 
 a compass as possible, with the bear meat inside, and 
 carefully tied it with the bark. 
 
 I swung the skin over my right shoulder, took my gun 
 in my left hand and turned my face homeward. I had 
 three miles to go and a heavy load to carry. But I had 
 killed a bear and was young and strong as an ox, and 
 just as the sun sank out of sight, away off over Lake On- 
 tario, I stepped into my father's house, hungry and tired, 
 but I had killed a bear. 
 
 All my family, including my father, who was an old 
 hunter, wondered and listened to my story of the capture 
 with great interest. 
 
 Thus it was that I had followed information conveyed 
 to me in a dream and found the information correct. 
 
 Just at this moment, my father arose and reached for 
 his gun. I looked at him and saw him drop his head and 
 turn his right ear toward " Old Dick's Slash." He put 
 his left hand out toward me and I heard the sound come 
 from his lips which always denoted silence and caution, 
 " sh." His right hand held his gun at a point just below 
 the muzzle and the breech rested on the ground. The 
 old ancient trees of the original forest were all about us 
 and waters of " South Branch " just off to our left. The 
 autumn sun sent its beautiful light down through the 
 trees even to his feet. 
 
42 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 At first I did not hear a single sound, except the soft 
 rattle of the partly dried leaves on the trees and ground 
 which moved in the slight breeze which was stirring. 
 Very soon, however, I heard a slow, regular sound which 
 appeared to come from the direction we had intended to 
 go. It at first seemed like the sound made by a fowl in 
 the yard when he stretches his neck up and flops his 
 wings against his body, only the sound seemed loud and 
 regular. The first beats were slow but they grew faster 
 and faster, until there was simply one continuous rumble, 
 which was a little like low, distant thunder. 
 
 The noise stopped and I said, "It is going to rain, 
 that is thunder." I saw father's handsome lips part and 
 form into a beautiful smile and he said, "No, my boy, 
 that noise is made by a partridge, he was drumming and 
 you will hear him again soon." Sure enough the low, 
 regular, curious sound commenced again. It grew louder 
 and louder till the whole woods seemed to be filled with 
 it, when it died away again and we could hear no sound 
 except the wind among the leaves and the musical gurgle 
 of the water in the creek, as it went in and out among the 
 alders on its way towards the lake. 
 
 Father said, " That is a grand old father partridge. 
 They do not often drum in the fall of the year, this one 
 evidently feels proud that the summer is past and his 
 children, the young birds, have lived and grown up and 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 43 
 
 are very likely within hearing now, looking for berries for 
 food or playing in the sunshine and soft leaves, as they 
 like to do. Then, too, the old fellow probably thinks he 
 is a good drummer and he desires to make a reputation 
 by furnishing music to all the birds hereabout. I do not 
 know that all this is true, but probably it is. We will try 
 and get near enough to him to see the performance and 
 perhaps we may get the old fellow, cunning as he is. I 
 think I know where he is and it is nearly in the direction 
 I intended to go anyway." 
 
 So the old gourd cup was carefully hung on the 
 branches near the spring so it would be here at some fu- 
 ture time and for our needs. Father started on toward 
 the point where the drumming^had come from and I no- 
 ticed he stepped carefully. Witrf dead leaves and small 
 dry brush all about I could not see how he could walk 
 and make so little noise. He seemed to put his toes down 
 first and glide along as quietly as a shadow almost. I 
 followed after him as still as I could, but with all my care 
 I made more noise than he did. We soon came to the 
 margin of " Old Dick's Slash." Here the great tall trees 
 ended and we stepped in among the second growth of 
 maple, beech and birch trees. These little trees were 
 from twenty to thirty feet tall and not very thick. The 
 frost here had been able to reach the leaves more thor- 
 oughly and there were few leaves left except down near 
 
44 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 the ground. Now and then there was an old tree or log 
 lying in the way, and take it all in all it was a most beau- 
 tiful cover for birds. 
 
 Just as we stepped in among this second growth, father 
 stopped and his left hand came back toward me with the 
 movement which meant silence. The old bird commenced 
 again and I saw father bend a little forward, grasping his 
 gun in his right hand. As soon as the noise of the drum- 
 ming was loud, father stepped, to the little hemlock. It 
 seemed to me he made no noise at all. I followed and 
 reached him just as the bird was winding up his concert. 
 I got along very well except at one point I stepped on a 
 dry twig and it made a little crackling sound. When I 
 reached father, he was on his hands and knees right be- 
 hind the little evergreen and his gun lay at his side. I 
 lay prone beside him and to his left. When I looked for 
 the old tree trunk on which we had supposed the partridge 
 concerts had taken place and where we hoped to see the 
 bird, there it was in plain sight, its whole length from root 
 to limbs, but no bird was to be seen. I thought at first I 
 had probably over-looked him and so I carefully searched 
 every foot of the old tree, but there was no bird there. 
 
 Father then turned toward me and whispered very 
 low, " The cunning fellow heard that noise you made 
 when you stepped on that bush, but he has not flown or 
 we should have heard him. He has just stepped off on 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 45 
 
 the other side of the log and run a little ways out in the 
 bush and if we keep perfectly still here until he gets over 
 his fright and suspicions, he will come back to his old 
 place and execute another piece." 
 
 We waited five minutes nearly and all the time I could 
 hear my heart beat and feel my shirt and jacket move by 
 the throbs. Sure enough, we heard a little sound and 
 looked away down toward the top of the old tree and the 
 bird had just jumped from the ground upon the tree ; the 
 noise of his feet made what I heard. He stood there as 
 still as a rock, facing us for as much as half a minute, and 
 then he turned in a sort of stately way toward the old root 
 and commenced to walk along the log ; now and then he 
 would stop and stand perfectly still and then walk on. 
 He was the handsomest bird I ever saw. He was as proud 
 as a peacock. There was a black ruffle of feathers about 
 his neck and he stood up as straight and trim as could be. 
 
 The dog "Snap" was lying between father and me, 
 and he saw the bird, but he put his nose down between 
 his paws, and turned first to father, and then to me, as 
 much as to say, "Give it to him." Pretty quick I saw 
 both of the bird's wings raise from his body together. 
 The wings were not open as fully as when flying, but 
 only partly open. He just lifted them, and struck his 
 own body with them. At first the movements were very 
 slow, and then faster and faster, until the wings looked 
 
46 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 like a fast revolving wheel. Whew ! what a noise he did 
 make though ! 
 
 After the performance, the bird walked five or six 
 feet away, and fairly strutted as he went. I saw father's 
 right hand move toward B his gun. His fingers grasped 
 the stock and barrel of the old "smooth bore," and, in 
 a flash, it was at his face, all cocked and ready. A 
 second, and then a flash and roar, and lots of smoke, 
 and I heard a fluttering, and the dog, "Snap," was 
 gone. It was but a moment, when the dog brought, and 
 laid down at our side, the dead body of the famous drum- 
 mer of "Old Dick's Slash." 
 
 Father said, "You seem astonished at something 
 what is it?" I said, "I suppose the partridge hit the log 
 with his wings when he drummed?" "Oh, no," said 
 father, "If you will think a moment, you will see that 
 would not do, for he would thrash his wings all to pieces 
 in no time." After father had loaded his gun, we started 
 in the direction of home, which was not more than a 
 mile away. Father said, "We have had a delightful 
 day, and have done well, too, for we now have two 
 partridges, a wood-cock, and a black squirrel. We shall, 
 very likely, find no more game to-night, for the sun is 
 well down, and we must hurry home, and help do the 
 chores. We will, like good hunters, however, walk 
 through the woods, as far as we can, on our way home, 
 and we may shoot a partridge or two, yet, to-night." 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 47 
 
 We soon reached the town-line road. We followed 
 the road only a short distance, and then stepped into the 
 first tall sugar maples, beeches and hemlocks, on the 
 other side of the way. What grand old trees they were. 
 There they had grown for centuries, and would grow for 
 centuries longer, if man and his axe would let them 
 alone. 
 
 I heard the lonesome and musical song of a bird. It 
 appeared to be but part of a tune. It was something 
 like this in sound: "Tee we wee, Tee we wee," and 
 seemed to be from a single bird. I asked father what 
 kind of a bird it was, and he said, " That is what I call 
 a wood thrush, and he sings that lonesome song just 
 before a rain. You may look out for rain to-morrow." 
 
 We soon passed through the sugar bush and cane and 
 came out into a sort of half cleared strip of land, just be- 
 yond which was an old brush fence and just beyond the 
 old brush fence were ten or twelve acres of underbrush 
 which extended to the pasture. As we stepped up to this 
 old brush fence the dog jumped upon it and off on the 
 other side and screamed as he went. In a moment there 
 was a babel of noise from the wings of three partridges as 
 they rose from the ground where they had been rolling 
 and playing in the dirt like hens. 
 
 The birds were astonished and so were we. One of 
 the partridges said, " Quit, quit, quit ! " and lighted on 
 
48 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 the limb of a tree right in sight. The branch on which 
 the bird rested bent down quite a little. I recollect seeing 
 the bird light and set there among the leaves and then 
 father's gun was discharged and down she came. The dog 
 brought the partridge over the fence to father. One of 
 the other birds flew past us into the woods and made for 
 a clump of small hemlocks about twenty rods back on the 
 road we had come. 
 
 Father said to me, " That bird went toward those 
 hemlocks and this late hour of the day is favorable to her 
 lighting in the first good hide she comes to. You go and 
 look those hemlocks over one by one carefully and you 
 will be very likely to find her. I will look for the other 
 one that went off here to the right." 
 
 - Then it was that I started on my first real hunt alone. 
 I went along quickly, but carefully, towards the hem- 
 locks. There were five of these trees in a group and from 
 the side I was approaching the branches were so thick 
 (and I was looking toward the dark thick woods, too,) 
 that I could not see the parts of the trees where the bird 
 would be likely to light. I went way round the bunch of 
 hemlock until I could look into them from the woods side 
 and toward the light of the west. The light was growing 
 a little dim for the sun was sinking down close to the 
 horizon, but my eyes were good then. 
 
 I carefully examined every branch on the tree next to 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 49 
 
 me, and then the next, and found no partridge. I began 
 to feel the chances were slim of finding the bird as the 
 best trees for him to light in I had already searched. But 
 I commenced to examine the third tree. I began first to 
 scan the lower limbs and my eyes passed along up the 
 tree and searched each limb carefully. When my eyes 
 had reached two-thirds to the top of the tree and about 
 thirty feet from the ground, all at once I saw the old part- 
 ridge sitting close to the body of the tree, with his breast 
 toward me. He looked as big as a goose sure. After a 
 second, just a second, my wits came to me and I raised 
 the old " Pill-lock " to my face. Some how I had cocked 
 it but I never could recollect how or when. 
 
 I looked straight at the light colored feathers of the 
 breast and pulled the trigger. The gun made an awful 
 noise and turned me half 'round. It gave out a long 
 stream of fire and lots of smoke. I remember hearing the 
 noise of the discharge as it went off down through the big 
 maples and beeches. I never will forget that shot. It 
 took me about a good, long second to bring myself to- 
 gether. I looked to the foot of the tree and there lay the 
 bird dead as a stone. I ran where he was and picked 
 him up. 
 
 That was one of the proudest moments I have ever 
 known in my life. I turned my face toward the sky, and 
 gave a halloo of joy and victory. Just then the dog 
 
50 THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 
 
 came to me in a bound to see what all the noise was 
 about, I suppose. I held the bird down to the spaniel, 
 and he looked up in my face and whined, and moved his 
 tail, as much as to say, " Well, that is good enough." 
 
 I went along out to where father was. I had the old 
 " Pill-lock" in one hand, still smoking, and the part- 
 ridge in the other. There were logs and bushes in my 
 road, but I say to you, here and now, that I did not re- 
 member stepping over either logs or brush. 
 
 I held up to father's gaze the partridge, and he said, 
 " Well, well, you have done it sure. That is a fine bird, 
 and it was a lucky venture when you went after him. 
 You are all right now, and shall go hunting again with 
 me." 
 
 We passed down through the under-brush and out 
 into the pasture by the spring, east of our house. As 
 we came in sight of home, the sun was below the western 
 hills, but had left a glow, which marked the spot plainly 
 above it. 
 
 Near the house, on the platform by the well, looking 
 toward us, stood my mother. Her right hand was shad- 
 ing her eyes and she appeared to be watching for us 
 anxiously. When I came near enough to see her plainly 
 she was smiling a happy welcome to father and me. Her 
 dark hair was well brushed back from her face, which 
 glowed with happiness. Her features were as calm, pure 
 and sweet as are given to mortal to be. 
 
THE OLD PILL-LOCK GUN. 53 
 
 It seemed to me then, and seems to me now, that she 
 was the grandest, sweetest and best woman in all the 
 world. 
 
 I ran ahead of father when I saw her and as I came near 
 I held up my partridge. She reached out both her hands 
 and I thought, as much as could be, she was going to 
 take the bird, but she grasped me, and drew me close up 
 to her, and kissed me again and again. For a sweet 
 moment I forgot my -hunt and my success, and the whole 
 world, in the love of my mother. 
 
 I have told you the history of one day out of seven- 
 teen thousand, and, if you are pleased with it, I will tell 
 you about a trout-fishing trip I had the next spring, with 
 my father, along the waters of the " South Branch of 
 the Little Salmon." 
 

 SJlPSSS 
 
 
 
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