The Newark Joui/nal.
O. P. CRAIG, Editor, f
NEWARK- - , ARKANSAS.
GHOTEAU'S
WOLF-TRAP.
4
BY ROE L. HENDRICK.
More than once “Uncle Ailen”
Turner had agreed to take me to
the best fishing grounds on Hem
lock creek, and at last we were off
for our three days’ outing, walk
ing briskly through the spicy ever
green woodland.
Turning to the north from the
old lumber trail, we soon left be
hind all traces of civilization, and
for the first time in my life I was in
the primeval forest.
“It’s only a bit, though,” Uncle
Allen explained. "It doesn't cover
more than two or three townships,
but I can remember when there
was nothing but solid woods from
Huron to Michigan, clear across
the lower peninsula. *Tliis was
when 1 first came— Hi, there!”
The old man turned abruptly
down a little swale we were cross
ing, seized a piece of dead timber,
and jabbed at something beneath
a layer of brush. Instantly there
was a fierce upheaval of the litter,
r metallic clash, and a huge
toothed trap seized the stick in a
savage grasp.
‘‘I'd like to know the fool who
set that!” the old man exclaimed,
in a decidedly bad humor. "There
are neither wolves nor bears fo
catch now. If it wasn’t so heavy,
I'd tote that thing to the lake and
chuck it in!”
“You're not fond of wolf traps. 1
judge, Uncle Alien,” I suggested.
"11 umpb, no!” was the old man’s
emphatic reply, "i suppose you've
noticed how I walk—kind of a side
step at a time, like a hog going to
war?”
“Yes,” I replied, “and I’ve often
wanted to ask von about it, for I
imagined you must have been hurt
_ iii some wav!”
I was hurt; got caught
in one v<t| tlmsc. things—and a
mighty tiglTt squeak it was. too.
Knowing just how they feel.
1 can’t bear to think even of a wolf
suffering in one of ’em. After sup
per to night I'll tell you about it."
That evening, lying on a broad
couch of odorous cedar boughs un
der a new pole lean-to, with mv
feet to the fire. I reminded my com
panion of his promise.
I made no notes of the story,
and years have passed since then,
but it made such a vivid impres
sion on my mind that I can easily
give tin1 substance of what he said.
“I don’t suppose,” he began,
“that I’ve told anybody that story
going on ten years. Just thinking
of it makes me shiver, so usually I
don't like to mention it.
“I eame to this part of Michigan
with my father right after the war.
in less than a month after I was
mustered out. We took up a full
section, and that winter mother
and tin* girls joined us. They hur
ried out here to nurse me, not hav
ing planned to leave our old home
back in Vermont till the M*xt
April.
“There wasn't anything to
speak of here but woods at first,
though the lumber companies
were beginning to push up-coun
try. Father and I put up our two
roomed log cabin in duly,’05, when
our nearest neighbor was on the
Horon shore, near the mouth of
Tapper creek, a good 15 miles to
the eastward.
“This man wasn’t much of a
neighbor, either. He was old A1
phonse Choteau, a quarter-blood
Seneca, and had a wife who was
straight Indian — a Chippowm
squaw. They had a half-dozen
copper-colored children, all as wild
as quails.
“Old man t ’hoteau was sociable
enough -when you could under
stand what he said; hut for mouths
we only caught glimpses of his
family, and no stranger could get
a word out of one of ’em. That
didn't nun ter. a great deal, though;
as the mother and children could
n't speak much besides Chippewa.
"< 'hoteau's squaw grubbed up a
little garden where she raised veg
etables, but -all he did was to trap
aiid hunt, with a trip to Detroit or
Mackinaw t wire a year. 1 first got
acquainted with him through his
big dog, Bravo.
“The dog was three-quarters
bearliound; the rest I don’t know
what—wolf, maybe, lie was an
ugly beast for a stranger to run up
against under ordinary eircuni
I stances.
“One September morning I was
out looking for a deer. We weren't
bothered by game laws then,
though I fancy the.legislature may
have begun to think about them.
I was crawling along toward a
creek bottom when, over in a hard
wood patch not far oft, I heard the
most doleful howling and whining
that ever came to a man'sears. It
plainly was a dog, but 1 wasn’t
expecting to hear or see dogs in
that wilderness, so I went to in
vestigate. JL'retty soon I came
! upon the Frenchman's beast, and
a sorry enough plight he was in.
“How an old, experienced wood
dog eajqe to get into such a scrape
I couldn’t understand at first, but
afterward I learned that it was
due to his bull-headed pluck and
foolishness. He'd done the same
thing before. ,.
“lie had had the bad luck to run
across a porcupine on the ground.
Well, the porcupine was up a tree,
minus a few quills, and Bravo was
the worst used up hound in the
state of Michigan. His nose looked
like a dressmaker’s red flannel
pincushion just lk*fore she’d start
ed on a big day's work.
“He showed plainly that he'd
j been there before and knew what
treatment was necessary, for lie
sidled up to me. whining, and lay
at full length at my feet. 1 took
out my knife, split a hardwood
stick two thirds of its length,
and thus made a pair of pincers.
Then I sj>ent an hour pulling out
the spines one by one. It must
have hurt.cruelly. but Bravo only
> whimpered now and then.
“Tin- wounds bled so that ]
! was afraid the dog would die. 1
hurried off aud got a lot of fresh
| pine balsam, which I smeared over
| the holes as fast as the quills were
drawn out. When J was through
the dog staggered to his feet and
followed me home.
"liravo staved for a couple of
days, after which I took him home
to his master. After that he used
to visit me “slashing' often, and
got to know the well. Tt was a
lucky thing for me that he did.
"Maybe you think I’m going a
long way round to tell about a
wolf trap, but have patience; I’m
nearly there.
"Early in November, one cold,
i foggy, drizzly day, I went to the
headwaters of Tapper creek to
look after some traps 1 had there.
I had heard that ('hoteau, with
his family, algo was trapping in
that neighborhood, living tempo
rarily in a wigw am, and 1 hoped to
see him. I wanted to make a bar
gain for him to sell my furs in De
troit.
"Just before noon, when I wras
not far from the beaver dam, 1
came upon a runway, as it is
called, leading down the creek. As
it. promised easier walking, I fol
lowed it. That showed 1 was a
green woodsman, for I might have#
known an old trapper like Chotean
would have had some kind of de
vice in a place like that.
"But I went blindly ahead till
just as I was taking a long stride
bt clear some fine brush, I heard a
chain rattle under foot. Again a
wise man Would have stood still,
but I was startled and endeavored
to jump.
“1 struck on n\y heels, slipped
and fell backward upon the pan of
the biggest and ugliest steel trapl
ever saw. Even in falling, some
how. I knew what was coining,
and threw back my bauds in an en
deavor to save myself.
"The trap jaws came together
lengthwise of my hips, with my
left forearm pinned inside. You
know how such traps arc made—
not jawed but tbe toothed kind—
with long steel spikes that fit
through the opposite jaw. There
were three such teeth on the right
and two on the left, set alternate
ly. One went through niv arm,
just under the skin, and two oth
ers dug into my right side, one
reaching dear to the hip-bone,
right into the joint.
“Hurt? >«ot at first; tno shock
simply paralyzed me, and I should
n’t wonder if I fainted outright,
though .1 was a pretty hearty, rag
ged lad in those days. But pres
eutly the eold, drizzling rain,
beating straight into my upturned
face, brought me to. Then 1 suf
fered eriough to make up for lost
time.
“No one could have been in a
more helpless position. As tin
jaws were still wide apart, and the
heavy springs—one on either side
—had not yet got their full grasp,
perhaps I might have thrust them
apart if both my hands had l>een
free. Even then, with the spikes
tearing ray flesh, it would have
I been a terrible task and one re
quiring nerves of steel.
“But with only one hand 1 could
do nothing effective, though I
wrenched at the jaw on the side,
and tried to work myself along tin
ground to reach a broken branchai
few yards away.
“But 1 could accomplish noth
ing—absolutely nothing; and the
weather was rapidly growing cold
er. The danger was of being fa
tally chilled, not actually frozen.
In half an hour my feet felt like
lumps of ice, and the numbness
was creeping upward inch by inch.
Then I fainted, and for a second
time became mercifully uncon
scious of my agony.
”It couldn't have been long, pos
sibly 15 minutes, when I felt some
thing on my cheek, and opened my
eyes to see Bravo standing over
me, licking my face. That gave
me an idea.
“Beaching,across and tearing
open my jacket, I finally succeeded
in drawing out my notebook from
the left inside breast pocket.
Though the rain blurred and blot
ted the paper, I laid the book open
at ray side, and smearing a twig
with my blood, scrawled:
•* -In trap by Tapper dam. Help!
Quick! A. Tupper.’
“It was hardly legible; and then
it flashed upon me that neither the
Freneimian nor lire family could
read. So I drew a rough oval of
the trap, with sprawling springs,
and trusted to luck.
"The drawing was made in I
Mood; an Indian could not fail to j
! guess the meaning of that, and if |
the dog would only carry the book j
one wav, he could easily net as j
guide the other. I was thorough I
ly exhausted, on tin* very point of ,
fainting again, and could not pos- j
sibly do more.
"('losing the note-hook and
.thrusting it between Bravo’s jaws,
I said: ‘Home!’ two or three
i times, just as I had done l**fore
| when I wanted him to return to his
muster, and then everything be-j
came a blur, and 1 did not know or
care whether he had obeyed. At
all events, the pain was gone.
“But suddenly it came back with
a rasping fierceness, as if a red-hot
iron was being used viciously to
gouge the marrow from my hip
bone.
‘‘I writhed and opened my eyes,
to see C’hoteau's squaw, with a
face as blank as a stone wall, but
looking like that of an angel to
rae then, as she deftly plied open
the trap with the clog, which she
used as a lever. I managed to roll
out of its merciless clutches, but
could not stir after that.
“Next she passed a wide band
of rawhide under my arms,
stooped forward, and with an
easy motion, swung me upon her
broad shoulders.
“Dangling as limp as a rag. T
was carried swiftly down to tin*
pond, and more than a mile far
ther to her wigwam.
“This I learned afterward, for 1
knew nothing till the next day,
when I found myself at home.
(JliGteau and his wife had carried
¥
nic there, full ten miles, on a litter,
and I weighed 190 pounds.
“Itravo had taken the bloodv
note book straight to the wigwam.
His master was away, but the
woman had guessed tjhe meaning
of the message, and had come on a
run to my aid. You can imagine I
was grateful to both.
“My mother and sisters came
and nursed me back 1 o health and
strength, but I've gone limping
through life ever since. I)o you |
wonder that I hate a wolf-trap?”
-—Youth's ('ompanion.
“APPLE SEED JOHNNY.”
Started Trees That Have Spread All
Over the Country, Particu
larly the West.
The first apple trees planted in
America were imported by the
Dutch settlement in New York in
1014. Apple trees wore also
known to have been growing at
Jamestown, Ya., as early as 1622.
Until within the last half century
apples were grown almost solely
for cider-making, as is the case to
day in France, states the St. Louis
Republic. As hard cider will pro
duce drunkenness and a horrible I
katzenjammer, William Penn ad 1
vised the colonists in Pennsyl
vania to cultivate indigenous
fruits alone, as apples were then
used almost exclusively for mak
ing cider or applejack.
Many of the orchards of the pio
neers of the middle west were j
grown from seeds obtained in a pe
culiar way. Some man whose full
name has been forgotten and who
is remembered only by the appella
tion of “Apple Seed Johnny,” trav
eled through the west and scat
tered among the settlers untold
quantities of apple seeds. He i
gave them away free of ’charge, j
and he was given a hearty wel
come at every cabin.
The last decade'or two has
shown wonderful development of
the large commercial apple or
chards in tlte west, and the industry
has now assumed vast propor
tions. Apples, for instance, are
exported to England- and many
foreign countries. Apple cores
from the bigdrying establishment s !
are purchased by eastern buyers
and shipped to France, to be used
in the adulteration of wines and
champagne. A large part of this
wine and champagne is shipped
back to America in wine casks
made at Poplar Bluff, in the larg
est barrel factory in the world.
AN ODD NESTtNC PLACE.
Sparrows Select Mouth of Stone Lion
as Good Place to Build
Nest.
Not all of tin* delights of spring !
are for the country boy, writer1
(leorge \Y. 1‘icknell, in St. Nidi '
olas. We who'live in the city have
a host of them, and can see many
a stnfnge and pleasing sight if1
we keep our eyes open. A few
days ago while riding my bicycle .
down Madison avenue, 1 heard the
twittering of sparrows, and, look-!
ing up, saw in the mouth of the
stone lion on the corner of the
building of one of the city’s prom
inent clubs, the remains of a last :
year’s nest, and two sparrows get
ting ready to build a new one for
this year.
It was such a novel place for a
bird to choose for housekeeping
that I stopped and made a sketch
of it. While standing on the oppo
site corner sketching, the police
man of that "beat” came over to
talk with me. He seemed pieced
that I should have noticed the
birds. He said that the sparrows
had been keeping house there for
several years. He had often
stopped to watch them build their
nests, and later feed their little
ones; which, later, would play
around the lion’s head, sitting on
his nose*or eyebrows as saucily ;».=
could be, as much as to say: “Yc~>
may look very tierce, but—wLo’b
afraid?”
Slaughtered for Fur.
The Siberian sable, tinier j-re
teeted l>v law, will soon be -v*1
BUTCHER USUALLY KNOWS.
When the Child Is Sent to Market He
Gives It About What It Is
Sent After.
“What do you want ?’’ asked the >
butcher in a large market that had >
suddenly heroine inundated with
small children just after school let:
out for the noon hour, relates the
New York Times.
‘ Meat,” was the laconic reply.
“How much money y’ got ?w
asked the butcher.
T1k» child unloosed a chubby fisi
and disclosed 12 cents. “An' l
want an onion,” she said.
The butcher took the 12 cents,
sliced off two small veal cutlets;
wrapped them up with an onion,
and sent the child on its homeward
way. In less than 15 minutes he
had waited upon a dozen or more
children in the same fashion.
“It is up to me to decide what
half the people in a block have for
dinner," he explained. “It is not
all guesswork, for the same chil
dren come here day after day at
the same time, and I try not. to
give them the same things twice
in succession. They belong to
mothers who are too busy to think
of dinner until ten minutes before
it is time to put it on the table.
Instead of coming around in the
mornings and getting their
money's worth, these women wait
till the children come from school,
and then i rust to us for what they
can get. Thrift is the last consid
eration. That little girl had just
money enough for two cutlets and
an onion. If her mother had
wanted a steak she would have
given her more money. She wanted
something to cook in the frying
pan quick. More than half the
time tlie children forget what they
are told to ask for, and we just
guess what to give them from fhe
amount of money they have. We
take it all every time. If the kids
were sent home with any change
it would be taken away from them
by thieving boys. Mothers know
that by experience. They give the
children just the amount of cash
they have to spend, the buteleS?
does the rest.” f
BRIQES OF THE COUNTRY.
Girls of the City Are Not “In It” witli
Tiiem as Regards Being
Certain.
The Southdown drummer had
I list returned to the eity and was,
as usual, jn his talkative mood,
says the Chicago Inter Ocean.
“Sav, you fellows may hoot at
the country people,” he said, “but
let me tell you that if'l were a
young woman I’d ten times rather
live in the country than in Chicago.
I’ve just returned from my swing
around the cornhelt, and I’ve
learned that the crop of June
)rides is going to be something
pnormous.
••The country girl has four times?,
ns many opportunities to marry as
does her c ity cousin, even though
shcynay not be half so well upon
clothes and vaudeville and horse
racing and all that. You hardly
ever see an old maid in the coun
try. In the farming districts tin*
girls don't worry about getting
married. They know the* man will
come along at the right time. Th
young women on the farms do
marry at any younger age than the’
girls do here in the eity, hut they
are much more certain of getting
married.’’
I
Parliament's Wine Cellars.
One of the features of lb* house
of commons cellars is-the Valen
tia vat, so named from the pop
ular whip. Viscount Vulentia.
This is a huge vessel, and holds
1,000 gallons of Scotch wliiskv ten
years old! 13 under ;proof. It is
never drawn below a minimum of
400 gallons. A smaller vat of
Irish whisky contains p()0 gallons.
The wine cellars are methodically
arranged with bins of bottled
win?*s. and among t hem are a se
lection of the royal sherries from
Buckingham and St. James’ pal
aces anu \\ indsor castle.
\