Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1886-12-02

4 y
| late Santa Louise Anderson. OF San Rafael
who was drowned in the Sacramento river
sainc months ago, while attempting to res.
tAe a companion --San Francisco Argo-
naut.
Twas born with the instincts OF the
true sportsman.
For long time Twas at loss to
know from what source had come my
passion for guns and cunning. My
father was anything but connoisseur
of deadly weapons, and my mother
never knew the butt from the muzzle
OF gun, and was equally afraid of
each. After carefully digging at the
roots of the family tree, the scientific
basis for hereditary transmission was
indicated, for found that my grand
mother was a cousin OF Kit Carson,
the great American hunter and trap
DER,
( While was a child, it amused my
brothers to hear me discuss the mer-
itsof choke bore shot-guns and breach
Ieading rifles, but when Igrew to WON,
ans estate this highly unfeminine
taste displeased and even alarmed
them. They were very proper young
men, and did not relish the idea of a
young lady sister who could take a
snile on the wing, or pierce the bulls
eye with a revolver at sixty PAGES.
Dear boys, they feared, too, that such
a propensity might seriously endan-
ger my being settled in life.
They demonstrated, they scolded;
| they brought me the accounts of all the
dreadful accidents that resulted from
the use of firearms. and tried to ex-
tort from me promise that would
never touch gun again. Knight have
| yielded had not an unfortunate cir.
cumstance occurred that made nIt,
deaf to all entreaties
An uncle who had heard of my skill,
and was queer and old-fashioned
enough to admire 1t, sent me on my
/ eighteenth birthday, a handsome
Winchester rifle, which he bad order
ed made for me. From that day i
ceased to struggle gainst fate.
Bryant's Lines to a Waterfowl"
always brought to my imagination
other thoughts than those commonly
! suggested to feminine readers; and not
only in thought. but in rubber boots
and with game bag, have | hunted
that classic bird on lake shore and
river bottom. At one time it was a
canvas back, slowly veering to the
south, with neck outstretched and eye
OF faith; at another it was stately
mallard or jaunty teal, a spoonful
or sprig-tai. But i painted for no.
| bier game.
| l longed for the excitement OF the
chase; to be where
THE stag at eve had drunk his fill;'
to see and be the belted hunter.
When / should have been devising pat
terms for sofa-cushions. and learning
to paint on silk and china, my heart
was away on the boundless plains,
chasing deer and antelope. As Caed-
mon was haunted by vision, in
which he was told to sing; as Socra-
ties was pursued by q damon, who in
sisted that he should make music-so
by some strange law OF psychology, /
81 . H. ~, 4,
plete until had hunted the deer or
tracked the grizzly in his mountain
4 home.
The opportunity came. Some
I friends invited me to spend few
weeks at their home in the Sierra.
They had little house among the
pines, in one of the most romatic re-
gions of the range.
/ a hunting-party was formed foE my
especial entertainment, and the night
before. as prelude to the morrow's
excitement, we listened around the
fire to the wild stories of the mount
aineers. "0ld Clubfoot," a grizzly
who had been known in the region for
fifteen or twenty years, was afavorite
topic No one had had the hardi-
sued hunter a long distance and
killed him with stroke of his gigantic
paw. An enormous trap had once
been set for him, and he had caught
his foot in it, but, with wonderful in
telligence he had gone to the nearest
rock and beaten it of. He was seen
occasionally in the passing years, and
now and then he helped himself to a
sheep or calf unmolested.
There was also white doe among
/ theneighboring mountains which SEEM
ed to bear a charmed life, for many
| hunters had shot at it, but always miss.
! ed. A superstition had naturally
grown up about it, and the mount
aineers held that some great calam-
! ity would attend the person who kill
ed the white deer.
These stories aroused my magma
ton so that ] could scarcely wait for
the dawn OF day, and lay awake long
after the house was still, buS was the
first one stirring in the morning
An old hunter, whom we called Uncle
| John, was the leader OF the party, and
| to his care was assigned. He had
| always wished to see a woman shoot,
he said, and should have a grand
| chance to show what could do.
Don't kill the white deer!" some
one called after us.
"No, no." / laughed back; "we'll
take the greatest care"
We rode in silence till we reached
the crown OF little hill where there
was an open, grassy spot. was close
beside Uncle John, when ! saw him
gaze fixedly ahead for a moment.
Then, without turning his head, he
said, in whisper:
Get down quick! Here's your
( chance As fine shot as ever / see"
/ was down before he had fairly be-
| gun to speak, but trembling all over,
4 and my teeth chartered in a most I'M
accountable way.
"Slip up behind that sugar pine and
blaze away" was the whispered order;
and, hugging my rifle, | obeyed, all the
| time with that dreadful shaking. 1t
was chuck ague," as ! afterward
learned, nervous affection expert.
enced by young hunters during their
first shot at deer. and even old hunt
ers have suffered from it.
The beautiful creature, o two.year
old buck, stood quietly feeding, out
lined against the SKY. l leveled my
rifle, never noticing that l had not
raised the hammer, and pulled with
all my strength. 1t did not Ego of. "
J At last discovering the reason. righted
| the hammer with q click. The deer
raised his lordly head. snuffed the air,
and was gone in series ofmagnificent
leaps.
How beautiful" | cried, forgtting
/ in the novelty OF the sight my own