Two Years in Oregon

?Elk-?The pursuit-?The kill-?Camp on Beaver Creek-?Flounder-spearing by torchlight -?Flounder-fishing by day-?In the bay-?Rock oyster

an amuse himself without the detestable feeling that he is wasting his time and robbing his family. The ground may be either too hard or too soft for plowing; or he may

sture-feed that he need provide; so long, that is,

n the feeling strongly expressed to me the other day, "I would rather work

I met an old friend of mine returning from a week

n, and the clean sweep of the sloping crest came down to meet the wood. "We was there inside of a week, hunting all the time." "See any bear?" "Just lots of sign, but I guess my dogs haven't lost any bear; the old dog got too close to one a bit ago, and came home with a bloody head and a cut on his shoulder a foot long." "Find many deer?" "Had two on foot at once one day: killed one, and hit the other, but he jumped a log just as I shot, and I guess I only barked him; I ran after him to try for another shot before he got clear off down the ca?on, but I tumbled over a log myself in the snow, and just got wet through, and my boots all filled with it." "Pretty rough up there, isn't it?" "Well, it w

eadlier fashion is this hunting with two or three houn

m by the roadside, among the burned timber. The fern had not grown up yet, but

but still hounds-were lounging about the door, and

thirty deer they had already killed this season. They urged us to have a hunt in the morning,

e huntsman carried a Henry rifle of the old model; his younger brother a rifle of the old school-long, brown, heavy-barreled, thro

tended throwing off. But before we reached the place a quick little hound threw up her head, and, with a short, sharp cry, dashed into the brush bet

ed high up the hill-side, and the huntsman followed, his jacket

ot, from the upper side of which a view was got of the course of the river as it wound round the lower side in a graceful sweep. The t

, our guide took the other

its blackness hidden under the trailing bra

m to us from all points in turn-fainter and still fainter, until we thought the chase had gone clear over the mountain into the distant valley beyond; and we sat watching the

yellow body flitting rapidly between the trees. The young hunter's rifle cracks, but the deer only gains in speed and dashes by. There is a clear space of ten or fifteen yards between the tree-trunks on our right, and, as the deer rushes past, we get a quick sight, almost like a rabbit crossing a ride in cover at home, and the Winchester rings out. Whether by luck or wit we will not say, but the splash ceases suddenly, and, running to the bank, there lies the deer, shot through the nec

the young huntsman's share, and we saw nothing of the chase till, hearing his rifle, and noticing the ceasing of t

it up and bring it for us into Corvallis, when he passed, in a couple of hours' time, we retraced our

finding the deer; his rifle must slay it; if he wounds it, he must follow it on foot; the

ore he pushes through. When he reaches the crest, he follows it along, scrutinizing every ca?on closely, for his prey lies very wisely hidden. At last, he sees a gentle movement in the brush, and the deer rises from his lair, stretches his neck, arches his back, and snuffs round at each point of the comp

have but a poor chance. Some settler is almost sure to get a glimpse of the visitor as he tops the snake-fence into the oat-field for his morning feed, and the rifle, or worse, the long muzzle-loading shot-gun which carries five buckshot at a charge, hangs by or over the wide fireplace. If not killed outright, the poor beast carries wi

e is not so shy as his black-tailed brother, and so falls an easier victim to the rifle. He abounds in the Cascade Range on the eastern side of the Willamette Valley, wh

the stores in the town, which were quite four feet six inches long, spr

some time back in the Alseya country, back of Table Mountain, that when we set the horns on the ground, tips downward, a feller could walk up

t secure a good guide, who knows the mountains well; you must take a pack-horse, with food and blankets, as far into the wilds as the last settlement reaches, and there leave him. Then slinging your blankets round your should

and lie down under the most sheltering bush. No snakes will harm you, nor will wolf or cougar molest you, and

seeking one mountain-slope after another; here skirting brush too thick to penetrate, there wa

ce for the spot, rifle in hand, too eager almost to duly remember woodland rules of caution. Crouching and crawling as you get closer to the sounds, peering through the fern, you see-what? Six, eight, ten, twelve, seventeen great beasts; one with enormous head, two others with smaller but still imposing antlers; the rest the mothers of the herd. Unconscious of danger, they browse round; both rifles speak

seven great elk lay dead together before they thought of stopping firing; and yet they knew

r; others think the fawn of the white-t

e hot embers by a split willow wand. We heard voices approaching through the wood, and presently a half-breed hunter and two friends of ours came in sight. They had been out two days after elk, but failed to find. On the way back they came across a doe and well-grown fawn; the latter they had killed, and brought it in. It was speedily skinned and cut up, and a loin, shoulder, and leg were ske

st the sky of the overhanging cliffs are lost to sight. No sound reaches you in the darkness, but the recurring rattle of the sculls in the rowlocks, and the soft lapping of the tide. The lights you are seeking grow brighter, and you distinguish the glare of the fire and the moving, dim form of the fisherman. The canoe, some sixteen feet long, is boarded roughly across amidships, and on a thin layer of sand and wood-ashes burns a pine-knot fire. The Indian stands in the bows, his back to the fire; as you look, he poles himself along by driving the handle of his long spear into the sand underlying the shallow channel. His fire burns dim for a moment, and he turns and with the same spear-handle he trims it; then, stooping, throws on it a fresh lump of the resinous pine. The fire

nk to bank of sand and mud. My light did not burn brightly enough to show more than the dimmest outlines of the fish, just off the sandy bottom of the bay. Here scuttled an old crab, scared by the novel light, and hurrying for shelter, crab-fashion, to the nearest bunch of weeds. There was a school of tiny fish, their silver sides glancing as the ray reached them; and there, again, a quick, white flash betrayed the sea-perch, not waiting to be spoken to. Every now and the

ny fish, muck-a-muck?" say you, blandly. Without turning her head, or raising herself from her crouching posture by the old black kettle, stewing on a tiny fire of sticks in the center of the hut, the old crone grunts out, "Halo" (none). "Want two bit?" you say, nowise discouraged. Money has magic power nowadays, and she rises slowly and shuffles past you to where

side. On the sand-bank in front of you sits a row of white and gray gulls preening themselves in the morning sun; a couple of ospreys are sailing overhead in long, grac

oss the bay, to where the south beach sinks in gentle, sandy slope. Take care of that waving weed, or we shall be on the

r-pounder, tossing and flopping in the bottom of the boat. Here comes a great crab, holding on to the bait grimly, and suffering you to catch him by one of his lower legs and toss him in. Now for a sea-perch; what a splendid color!-bands of bright scarlet scales, interlaced with silver. But what is this? A stream of

have gone off the feed, and we shall have to beat back, lucky if

g reefs almost bare. We climb over the big reef on the north head of the harbor, under the lighthouse hill, and wind in and out on the hard sand among the rough rocks, all cr

out there, barelegged, digging with their axes

Chip in and wrench the piece off; the rock is soft enough sandstone to cut with that blunt old axe. Here is the spoil-soft mollusks, are they not, and not pretty to look at?

horizon; and the eye wanders out from the infant waves, at foot just tinged with red, and reflecting the light as they move

grasp the idea of the vast stretch of sea across which this

nd we shake hands with the proprietor, coming from the darkness at the back. He has borne an honorable limp ever since the war, and has never yet quite recovered from illness and wounds. He swears by Newport as the best, and healthiest, and most promising place in the world. "Say," he whispers in our ear, "got a sea-otter skin to-day!" "Where did you get it, Bush, and who from, and how much did you have to pay for it?" "Got it from the Indians," he says; "they shot it away up by Salmon River, beyond Foulweather, and had

dred yards from the beach, beyond the shore-line of sand or rock. They are never seen ashore, or even on isolated rocks; when the sea is warm and still, they live much on the surface, playing in the weed; sometimes, supporting their fore-feet on the thickest part of the wavy mass, they raise their head and shoulders above the weed, and gaze around. Parents and children live together in the weed; I have not heard of more than two young ones being seen in the family group. The skeleton is about four feet long: the fore-paws are short, strong, and webbed; almost in the same proportions as a mole's; the hinder extremities are flappers, like the seal's. The hide is twice the size of the common otter's; the fur the most beautiful, soft, thick, and glossy in the world-dark-brown outside, and almost yellow beneath, like the seal's. They are sometimes shot from a steam-schooner, like my friend's, lying-to at a safe distance, but much more commonly from

dence. It is on these that the mink chiefly preys. I was walking my horse along a quiet stretch of sandy road, between thick bushes, returning from the Yaquina one day in summer, when a rabbit darted out before my horse and down the road for a hundred yards as hard as he could go; then into the bushes, then back into the road, and up the other side, close to me, evidently in the greatest fear. I stopped to see. Presently, a mink came out where poor Bunny first appeared-nose to the ground, and hunting like a ferret. He followed the rabbit's track step by step down the road, into the bushes, back again close to me, then into the brush; and then out came poor rabbit again, the heart gone out of him. Stopping an instant,