Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-11-17
WITH THE STILL HUNTERS
svDEIIGHTs ON THIS PARTICULAR
FORM OF THE CHASE.
sportxmen Who Hate to Hear the nalA
Of . Dog-some Chsrac-
7,7@ ter Sketches. -.-
From Golfers Weekly.

From Golfers Weekly. ..
In the woods! The very though. u -
thrills the heart Of the true sun hu''el
like q draught of rare old wine. ne AVN
Is the master Of woodcraft, the reahS ree0
er of "siKns," the wizard or "oooS w."
ders. the true interpreter of records has'i'
deliberately or carelessiy VIII ny hooi' VI
hor, or claw. To him natures Wondrous
page is an open book crammeo Win ih'e
astine records, which he can read as he
rms walks or crawls. To him PRINT III
earth or snow, bruised twigs. disturbed
nebbles a scar upon tree oole' peht
grasses. roily water, are records which tell
1,h.t creature passed that way. when, If at
ease or at speed, and possibly whittier
bound. -, ,,,,+or,
He goes into the woods strohe, iesoiu's'
resourceful, keen-eyed and silent-l,otG 80 u.
He nits his brains and skill against tne
craft Of lower creatures, and he usually
wins He can change tactics TO meet any
emergency and be his quarry shy oeei W
lordly moose, it needs must look 10 ltseil
after he has once got fairly upon It's tran.
To him miles are of trifing moment. Some
where at the otner end OF a trall is a erea-
ture that he wants, and, bar accidents ne
will get 1t. IT,
plays the game-as good man should play
any eame-to win, and If need be he Will
tax himself to the utmost rather IMAM SUI
fer defeat. Silent, patient, yet ever Keen
he runs, halts, walks or craWls, ever read
ing the sign and ever ready for instant ac-
ton. Ever learning and never forgetting,
he gradually masters the ways OF the WOODS
folk, their goings and their comings until
they have no secrets from him Their lives
and loves are his. and Of all this knowledge
he takes a deadly advantage.
have had the pleasure Of knowing many
expert still hunters and without an excep-
ton they were interesting men ana Ver1-
table mines of information to any sports
man who cared to study beyond the mere
killing stage of his craft. Their trained
eyes saw the little things.the thousand
and one trifles of the TRAIL any one Of
which, II remembered at the right moment.
may turn an apparently eXasperating de-
feat into glorious victory. or them l
have learned a little of the woods along
with a vast amount Of respect. They knew,
and woe was the certain portion of who
ever tackled them and only thought he
knew.
Old Lewis-peace to his ashes! The
prophet of the pines he surely was. 1 found
him years ago in Michigan woods, and he
taught me the Silent foot along with his
terse creed-"Look lots and move little"
It's good creed, too. Lewis 1t was whose
keen eye detected thread of vapor in the
frosty air above mound of snow and then
cut a sapling and with 1T coolly churned
that sleeping bear until the outraged brute
burst 1Ortn almost INTO my arms. Anu
Lewis did more-he went and told every
lumber camp how I cleared huge, snow
laden. fallen hemlock and twenty feet Of
level in one standing skip.
Wonderful old boy he surely was. A child
in many things, yet an iron man when real
danger threatened. Two CHASTITY white
scars down his face and three more the
length of his left arm were his tokens of
an old-time hugging match with sweet
thing in she bears. He learned about
women from her." and what he had learned
he taught me. so I've never been Rugged
that is not by that particular brand of
plantigrade. Lewis, too, started me upon
without word. but with much silent
top and got shot through what looked like
paurich.
That buck acted like a billygoat and
looked like the devil. It's eyes shone like
bicycle lamps and it's hair rose like porcu-
pine trimmings, while + most likely, looked
like fool. Lewis killed 1t within a couple
Of yards Of me, then lay down in the snow
to, as he put it, "Jes laff good" They
know not mercy, these hairy men Of the
forest.
1t was "Old Joe," 1.-THE, lean and eyerlast-
ing. who finished me off on white-tatled
deer. In the matter Of projecting himself
forward he was like the brook, and upon
more than one painful occasion he had me
feeling like log jam with a cold snap
coming.
And there was another Jos--"Wixard Of
woodlands, foreknowing their deep-hidden