The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1893-08-15
MIR. BANKMAN.
The Story of an Interesting Hunt.
or and Tramp.


Bankman was a tramp. In the sum
mer he certainly was, and whatever be-
came of him in the winter we boys at
the school never knew. We had vague
theories that he sought hollow tree
and hibeTnated like bears Some color
was given to this suspicion by the fact
that he had exhaustless information
concerning every hollow oak and hick.
DRY that might harbor a coon or pos
som. If any of these by chance had es'
capped the attention of Mr.. Bankman
himself, his dog Flip was certain to
know them like book. Why we called
him Mr." do not know, unless it was
our way of expressing an unbounded
admiration for his fathomless knowl-
edge of birds and beasts and fishes, and
of the various ways in which they
might be brought to bag. He was our
official oracle on these subjects.
There was a traditional rumor cur
rent in the school that Mr.. Bankman
had once been prosperous blacksmith,
until the course of love affair had run
in violent fulfllment of the proverb;
that he had then betaken himself tc
bibulous ways and ended up in what
civilization calls tramp, leading what
we considered the most delightful exist
ence in the world.
However that might be, it was Ger.
tain that each spring some of us, linger.
ing after dusk to set night-lines along
the creek, would come upon the old man
arranging himself to fish for cells, and
the report would go through the sport,
ing element of the school that Mr..
Bankman was in the woods. About
that time would begin to make friend
ly advances to the school baker, over
lures received suspiciously enough at
first, but which generally resulted in
the accumulation behind my trunk of a
quantity of bread and salt to be offered
In due time at the shrine of Mr.. Bank
man 1t was a constant wonder to us
that these particular uninteresting
commodities should be thought so high
ly of by him, who had nightly feasts of
fish broiled on the Goals, or rabbit,
with roasted ears, and perhaps the
plumber of a ''bee-tree' But we
brought them to him in the spirit of
Capt Cook trading glass beads and
such worthless gauds to the South Sea
islanders If the inside lining of our
jackets disclosed a goodly quantity of
provisions, and if we had shown any
ability to hold our tongues and to bait
eel-lines, we were, perchance, reward
ed by nights fishing, a ''gigging'
party or a coon hunt, while a bright
fire blazed in camp, with sweet po-
tatoes in its ashes exuding resinous
sweetness, and glowing Goals waiting
to broil our catch.
l was particularly favored by Mr..
Bankman because of the large storage
capacity of my jacket, and chiefly, l
think, because / happened to be the
only person whom Flip, his dog, was
willing to admit to any terms of friend
ship. / had even attained the felicity
of spending the night, after much pro-
tracted coon hunts and fishing parties,
with Flip & Co. Several times l occu-
pied corn-shock or hay-rick adjoining
the one into which they had crawled
for the night. While was not allowed
to tell the particulars of these intro
auctions to Mr.. Bankman's lares, the
envy of the boys when limited in gen
eral terms at my good fortune quite re-
paid me for the very considerable
debts that came on account of my alb
sence from night inspections.
Sometimes Mr. Bankman would move
his camp for weeks or months at a
time, and longed in vain to accompany
him to these new hunting grounds.
But the deep woods and swamps on our
great school farm held him the most Of
the time. Then, too, it was dangerous
moving across country except at night;
and, as a matter of fact, Mr.. Bankman
rarely showed himself out of the woods
at all until nightfall, unless he was
driven to it by dearth of supplies.
Not that he was very bad. Indeed.
have seen chickens and ducks from one
of the farmhouses feeding in perfect
safety within absurdly easy range of
Mr.. Bankman's club, in a place where
there was no possibility of a few
squawks being heard. But no man is
perfect. 1t was a firmly grounded
principle of Mr.. Bankman's, and one
that he carefully inculcated onme, that
we should never break the law of meatna
and tIuRs so long as there was chance
to secure sustenance without of
Tending the sensibilities of the agri-
culturist. But there came periods
of leanness in Bankman's larder,
when sometimes for days together
there was no meat, not even a
muskrat, on which to apply the salt
that | furnished On these uncomfort-
able occasions it was his custom to
draw an imaginary line in the woods
through some point between his place
of retreat and. the nearest farmhouse,
and make it rule, as of the Modes and
Persians, to appropriate as contraband
any eataDles, feathered or otherwise,
that came across this deadly bourne
into the thicket On the day after one
of these pronunciamentos went into
effect, it was as like as not that Farmer
Pike would straighten up his back from
the corn crib to say: Darn them
hawksl" while a flock of his guineas
came flying and chattering out of the
woods to the friendly barnyard, all but
one. Or the fox that lived over in the
caves would be maligned by Mrs. z. for
Juc AySbSI1Ouo 0Aot " Cdt GhSS u civ ~
her young turkeys.
One unlucky day Mr.. Bankman and l
had chased gray squirrel to the edge
of the woods, where he lay on the top
OF very high lateral branch-in the
extraordinary manner that squirrels
have-entirely protected frou the bu9-
lets | was shooting out of my sling.
While Mr.. Bankman, who preferred not
to come to the line of the fence which
separated us from Mr.. Gardeners open
field, was arranging bundle of rust
ling dead branches to frighten Mr.
Squirrel from his hiding place, sat on
the fence and idly shot into the field
some acorns that lay around. A very
pompous turkey strutting considerably
out of range of possible harm attracted
my attention, and not hearing my pals
little whistle of warning, / fired an
acorn at the gobbler with so true an
aim that it hit him on his trailing wing
and made him give an indignant hop
The next moment very horny hand
had gripped me about the neck, and ]
was hauled off the fence toward Mr..
Gardeners house.
$50 you're the raskil that's bin KILN
my chickens and turkeys" he said, very
loudly and unpleasantly, dividing his
sentences into dactyls and expressing
each accent by shake that made my
teeth chatter. Pm goin' to hitch my
buggy and take you right over to the
kernel, that's what I'm agoin' to do
an eff he keeps you in that there school
twenty-four hours, | don't know him.
But just as we reached the orchard
behind Mr. Gardeners house, and the
energy and confidence of my deniais
were beginni ng to have some effect, we
both turned around to an unearthly
cackling and squawking and sound o1
flying wings that would have made the
CAN'T oline Randers themselves hiss with