"DOC" SIMMONS
AND THE
WILD_CAT
AN EPISODE
t IN WOODS J
\ AND WATER j
\ EXPLOITS <
[ 1
* Ernest McGaifey }
r Author of "Foema of j
Ik Gun and Hod, Etc. 3
in iIM B'lM MiMH« ■II IT |i W\
(Copyright, by Jobvpti 11. iJowltis.)
"Got your comp?.ss, Doc?" asked one
of the guides, at a short, stout figure
passed out fron the tents, with a
double-barrelled shot-gun over his
Bhoulder.
"Yep," wast 0 reply.
"Which way he you going today?"
"Over by the oak ridges," was the
answer, "I saw lots of turkey sign
there late yesterday afternoon."
"Well, look out for wildcats over
there, too," remarked the guide, "they
re settin' around in the green briers
over there watchin' for rabbit and
turkey."
"All light," replied "Doc," "if I run
across one of 'em, I'll try and scratch
bis buck for him."
We were camped in the Arkansa3
wilderness, forty miles from a railroad
and in the heart of the White river
country. It had been a heart-rending
trip through the swamps, and it had
taken us two days to pitch camp, cut
wood, and get our bearings a little.
Five of us had arranged to take the
dogs and "drive" deer that day, and
"Doc" Simmons, like all but two of
us, a "tenderfoot," was going over
I thought if I lingered the wild cat might have robbed me of my watch and
other valuables.
to try for turkeys. "Doc" had been
taking lessons from an artist in tur
key-calling, and by means of scraping
a small cedar box on the barrels of
his gun, after having previously rub
bed a quantity of common chalk on
the barrels, he had managed to learn
a call that sounded quite natural to
the uninitiated, even If it didn't fool
the turkeys.
But "Doc" had run across a tur
key by accident in the brush, the bird
hwing been scared up by the dogs
wMle running a deer, and when it flew
right, into "Doc" he bowled it over
ns easy as he would a quail. It was
a fine, big gobbler, and filled "Doc's"
breast with a desire to get some more
of them.
.Along about five, when it was get
ting dark rapidly, we saw "Doc" Sim
mons coming down the trail, headed
for camp. He didn't have any gun
wilh him but he appeared to be per
fectly serene about it. He came up
Just as though, nothing had happened,
and says, "How soon'll supper be
ready?"
"What's the matter, Doc, said Em
ory, "anything happen to you? Didn't
meet up with a panther, did yeu?"
"No!" says "Doc," and then he
laughed. "I got a turkey," says he.
"Where Is It?" says Ed Morton.
"Hanging up out in the brush," says
"Doc."
"Where's your gun?" says Ed.
"I left that during my tete-a-tete
with my friend and contemporary, the
wild-cat," says "Doc."
"Sure enough?" says we all, "let's
hear."
"Well," says "Doc," "it's quite a
story; I'll tell you all about it after
supper."
"Well, sir, we had supper, and then
"Doc" stretches out before the blaze
of about a ton of logs and he says
"Are we all here, brethren?"
And then he commences. "I start
ad out this morning and went straight
to the oak ridges, and built me a little
aort of 'blind' and crawled In back
§Mt and commenced to listen, and oc-
casionally call for turkejw. Finally I
began to get an answer from
over to my right and I kept calling
the best I could, but finally 1 must
have let out a fortissimo instead of a
pianissimo note, and the turkey quit
me cold."
"Forty missimo," says one of the
guides, "what's that, 'Doc?'"
"It's a buck-suort translated Into
English," says "Doc."
"Goon, 'Doc,'" says old man Waits.
"Well," says "Doc," "at last I heard
the sound of about a million turkeys
gobbling down in the timber and
something must have scared them, for
they commenced flying over me by
singles, pairs, threes and clouds. I got
two shots before they all went past,
and killed one turkey. When I started
back towards where they all had
seemed to light, I hung my turkey up
by that old cottonwood stump, high
up out of reach of anything I guess."
"Well, I was coming along to where
the turkeys had all lit, and I got
down to the green-brier patches. I
wormed my way through about a mile
of 'em, but can't raise any turkeys.
I sat down and tried the 'call,' but
nary a turkey. Then I made up my
mind to come back to camp and pick
up my turkey on the way. There was
a little snow on the ground, just a
smear, and every once in a while I'd
come across one of those big old logs
that was hard to climb over and far
togo around, and the wading through
the briers was awful tough besides.
At last I came to a long old log that
was running the way I was headed,
and I made up my mind I'd 'ride her.'
So I climbed up on top, and as I was
coming along down towards the end I
saw a thick bunch of green-briers at
the other end. Says I to myself, I'll
jump that hurdle, and I took a little
flying start and up I went over the
briers."
"Now, it's a little singular, but when
I came down I lit square straddle of
the biggest wild-cat in Arkansaw. Yes,
sir! I was in the saddle for sure, and
I squashed him right down to the
ground. I wasn't exactly scared, you
might say, but I was a trifle confused.
This old cat spit and clawed out from
under me and 1 know he was almost
frightened out of his senses. The ef
fect on nie was what the scientists
call 'optical illusion.' Ever see these
cages with a squirrel going around in
'em? Well, I thought the world wa3
going around at the rate of a million
revolutions a minute and that I was
going around with it in a sort of cage,
with eleventeen wild-cats on top of me
to keep me company."
"That's the reason I came away
without my gun. That's the reason
I didn't hunt up my turkey. That's
the reason I hustled for camp. I
wanted the sight of human faces and
the touch of human sympathy. What
I wanted to do was to get away from
there and forget all that maze of fur
and teeth and yellow eye-balls, and
thrashing around there in the green
briers, and that pungent smell of
scared wild-cat."
"And that's the reason, I reckon,
that my clothes seem to be ripped up
a little across the E?ams. I don't
know what's the best record for travel
ing through green-briers on a direct
line, and I haven't measured the dis
tance from here to where me and the
wild-cat got Introduced to each other,
but I want to say that my time must
have been something terrific. I sailed
over the logs like a quail, and I went
through the green-briers like a rabbit
through an osage orange hedge."
"I thought if I lingered the wild-cat
might have robbed me of my watch
and other variables, I guess, for 1
never stopped to dicker about the gun
at all. And now when I come to size
it up, that varmint was as badly
scared —I mean confused, as I was. I
remember he went over the log like
a charge of buck-shot the mimite he
could squirm loose, but the optical il
lusion on me was stseng at that time,
and I thought I had lit right in the
middle of a wild-cat convention."
"Who'll go out with me in the morn
ing and help me find my gun?" say*
"Dpc."
will," eaya old Emor/±
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MARCH 19,1908.
STO]RIEf:I°E^~Y
THOUGHT HE KILLED A MAN.
Samuel Martindale Relieved When
Told the Truth.
"It must he a dreadful thing," sairl
Capt. John S. Tarkington, "to carry
through life the knowledge—or even
the suspicion—of having killed a
man, of having deprived any human
being of life.
"I was captain of company A, One
Hundred and Thirty-second Indiana,
in the civil war, and the regiment was
stationed most of the time of its serv
ice at Stevenson, Ala. 1 was judge ad
vocate of the general court-martial at
Bridgeport, ten miles from Stevenson,
on the Tennessee river. It was re
ported to me one morning that Sam
uel Martindale of my company was in
sore distress. He had killed a man, a
deserter from a union regiment, as he
was escaping from the prisoners'
stockade the night before.
"This deserter had gotten over the
stockade, had crossed the ditch sur
rounding it and was climbing the em
bankment a hundred feet away whero
Martindale wai pacing hi") sentry bent,
when Corporal Iliff ordered him to
fire on the fugitive. He did 30. The
man fell, shot in the back and through
the body, the minie ball touching tho
backbone in its flight. The poor fel
low was paralyzed and Martindale
had suffered a shock almost as bad.
"The deserter was picked up. A de
tail carried him to a convalescent
camp up the mountain. The surgeon
in charge took the body to see to its
burial and our detail returned to
camp.
"I consoled Martindale as best I
could: told him what he had done was
in the strict line of duty, but he con
tinued to bewail this death, which he
said was quite a different thing from
shooting a inun in actual battle.
"More than 20 years later I was
talking one evening with a neighbor,
Maj. W. H. Calkins, who afterward
went to the state of Washington. We
were calling up army incidents as we
were seated on his porch when a
friend visiting him came out upon the
porch, whom he introduced as a for
mer surgeon in the army. The major
told of a man in his regiment, a cav
alry regiment, who was shot in the
toe, not much more than bruising it, yet
the soldier died from that apparently
insignificant wound.
"Then the surgeon spoke up. Ho
said he could tell of a most singular
recovery. lie told of a man brought
up to the hospital of which he was in
charge just outside of Stevenson, Ala.,
a man who had been shot through the
body. The surgeon had casually looked
at the body when he in some mysteri
ous way was moved to put his ear to
the heart. He heard a faint beat.
More than that, there was a faint
breath coming from his lips. The
surgeon, who was about to give or
ders for the burial of this body, had
the man placed upon a bed. He
nursed him, watched him night and
day and finally sent him away entirely
restored, to his regiment. Let us hope
this deserter did valiant duty for his
country afterward.
"I thought at once of poor Sam Mar
tindale as I heard the surgeon's story,
and directly afterward I told him that
the deserter whose death he had
mourned so many years did not die,
and was probably yet in the land of
the living.
"Martindale was again a happy man.
He said that this thing of killing a
man jumping over a fence was too
much like murder for his peace of
mind. Mr. Martindale is yet living.
He's up in Newton county, where he
has served as auditor and treasurer
of his county."
SOLDIERLY CANDOR.
"Colonel," asked the beautiful
maiden, "did you ever have a horse
shot under you?"
"No," replied the bluff old war
rior, "but 1 had several trees shot in
front of me." —Chicago Record-Herald.
Shorthand Without Hands.
A youth of 15, named Possneck, who
two years ago lost both his hands in a
machinery accident at Arnstadt, has
accomplished the remarkable feat of
gaining a speed certificate for short
hand. After his mishap, by which his
hands were cut off at the wrists, he
was received into a cripples' home.
Tho duke of Saxe-Meiningen, one of
the patrons, took an active interest in
the iad and paid for two artificial
hands. The cripple soon became so
expert in their use that he is now
an excellent penman, and can write
shorthand at the rate of 115 words
per minute.
That Strange Ladder.
"Some one has said," remarked the
moralizer, "that the ladder of ambition
has no top rung."
"I guess that's right," rejoined the
demoralizer, "and very often it has
nothing to lean against."—Chicago
Daily News.
AT PETERSBURG.
War Reminiscences of One Hundred
and Fifty-fifth Regiment, Pa. V.
Tn the winter and e&rty spring the
marshy country to the south and south
west of Petersburg, drained by Hatch
ers and Gravelly runs, was subject to
frequent fogs so dense that from day
break until ten o'clock a soldier wan
dering away a few rods from his camp
would be unable to find his way back
to the same. During the siege ®f Pe
tersburg, writes John T. Porter in the
Pittsburg Dispatch, the whole region
between the lines of the contending
armies was so cut up by covered ways,
dug-out roads, rifle pits, etc., to con
ceal the movement of troops and pick
ets from the view of the enemy aB to
make it almost impossible, or at least
extremely hazardous, to pass from the
main lines to the picket posts when
the fog was heavy.
During the winter campaign of 'G4-
'OS Sergt. Walter McCabo of com
pany B, One Hundred and Fifty-fifth,
in command of a large squad of pick
ets, started out one foggy morning to
relieve the union pickets in the riflo
pits. After wandering for some timo
in what seemed to be the direction of
the union picket line the sergeant and
his squad were brought to a sudden
halt by a challenge from a confed
erate picket, when, to their consterna
tion, they found themselves prisoners
within the enemy's Hue, unable to es
cape.
On bei.ig line 3up preparatory to
starting for the rear of the confed
erate army Sergt. McCabe and his
men were relieved by the enemy
of all their valuables and moot of
The Sergeant and His Squad Were
Brought to a Sudden Halt.
their clothing. A confederate would
say: "Here, Yank, I'll trade hats
with you!" Another would exclaim:
"Off with your shoes, Yank! I'll ex
change with you!" Some mercenary
confederate would ask:"Have you
any money? Out with it! You'll not
need it where you're going, and I'll
take care of it for you."
When the exchanges were all com
pleted the scene presented the appear
ance of a company of confederates
dressed in neat union military uni
forms, guarding within their own line
a band of union soldiers dressed in
ragged, tattered confederate uni
forms, their heads sticking through
crownless hats, toes protruding
through the ends of shoes, bare spots
showing through rents in trousers, es
pecially in the rear.
As the prisoners were marshaled
into line by their captors and started
for the rear, the appearance was that
of a company of union soldiers within
the enemy's lines guarding a com
pany of confederate prisoners. How
ever, no such scene was witnessed
within the enemy's main line, as the
captors, becoming confused by the
thick fog, struck and followed a cov
ered way, which, to their great cha
grin, led them and their prison
ers right back into the union
lines, where the confederates, in
turn, became prisoners. It is need
less to add that tlie fortunes of war
having changed, there was a hasty dis
gorging of plunder and Sergt. McCabe
and his squad came into their own
again.
Diplomats Purchase Homes.
Diplomats from Latin republics, es
pecially those countries where the
governments seem to sit on shaky
foundations, are making hay while the
sun shines and acquiring permanent
homes in the United States. The min
ister from Cuba and Mine. Quesada
have just bought the home of H. Clay
Evans, the place of the Leslie Shaw
hospitality in Washington. Senor Cal
deron, the minister from Bolivia, pur
chased and remodeled a fine mansion
in Sixteenth street, and he intends
to remain in Washington despite the
whims of passing governments. Cal
deron has invested much of his ample
fortune in American securities. His
wife is a Philadelphian and his daugh
ter was educated in that city.
Deforestation in Africa.
According to J. Dybowski, a pro
gressive desiccation of the air and
soil is manifest in the region of the
Sudan, the underlying cause being
the destruction of the original forests.
Cape Verde is cited as an example.
In the eighteenth century the botanist,
Adanson, described It as covened with
a vast forest, whence its name. Now
the forests hie gone, the rivers are di
minished, sheets of water have disap
peared, and the productiveness of the
soil is failing, until in many places
the region has become almost sterile.
The natives began the destruction of
the forests ignorantly; white men con
tinue It for immediate aelflsb ends.
MM
A FUNNY GIANT,
How a Little Fun Can Be Had In
Social Company.
Some evening when your friends
have come into spend an hour with
fl you and conversa
tion lags, you and
JPBSC }■—-> one of your
>!vll can i m '
I personate this
/L[Xt]/ I Queer-100 king
Hr\ / nn( l cause
/ I much merriment.
I Select a boy
Ij\ much smaller than
R ) |\ yourself and seat
<"/ Tui- / him as * r ide
• i ">rll j-J* \ your shoul de r,
/ i draping your com
/ 111 \ bined figures with
( |v \ \a sliawl or long
/ ( ||) ) cloak. Disguise
v / 7°" r friend's face
by making a mus
tache with a piece of burnt cork anJ
ornament his head with a high hat.
The more complete the disguise tho
more effective ia tho giant. If somo
ready-witted and genial member of the
party will undertake to act as show
man and exhibit the giant, holding a
lively conversation with him and call
ing attention to his gigantic idio
syncrasies, a great deal of fun may be
produced. The joke should not, how
ever, be very long continued, as the
feelings of the person carrying i the
other must be considered.
A NEW CUT-OUT.
Cut Out White Space Around the
Head.
' <; ?
1 " ' /
((|||>> • <&;
Cut out the disk and fasten it to
back of the card at the dots. Turn
and see yourself as others see you.
TOYS OUT OF EGG SHELLS.
What the Handy Boy Can Make In
Spare Moments.
Would you like to make this simple
yet clever toy? It is easily done. Take
shell which is
open only at one
A Nf end. Close this
| opening with a lit
rjJ tie piece of knead
||l ™ ed bread, shaped
—I like the head of a
chicken. Two tin tacks will servo for
eyes; a bit of pointed wood will do
for the beak. Let the bread go into
the opening quite a little way tp make
It more secure. A few feathers insert
ed at the rear will look like a tail, and
two toothpicks will serve as legs.
Now your chicken is complete and
ready to be made to stand up. Next
take a couple of bent iron wires, about
an inch and a half long. One is in
serted a little back of the imitation
legs, and is kept, as are all the other
features, in place by white sealing
wax; the other will serve as a support
for a bit of sugar.
When properly adjusted the bird
will perch on your finger; It will bal
ance itself and can be made to swing
backward and forward. —Magical Ex
periments.
Teacher (reading aloud) —The
weary sentinel leaned on his gun and
stole a few moments' sleep.
Dottle —I bet I know where he stole
it from.
Teacher —Where, Dot ?
Dottle —Prom his "nap"-sack.
Something Wrong.
The little girl had gotten up very
early in the morning for the first time.
"Oh, mamma!" she exclaimed, re
turning from the window, "the sun 's
comin' out all right, but God 's forgot
ten to turn off the moon." —Judge.
You are always hearing people talk
about a jolly good time. Did you ever
have one? They are quite rar*.
BUSIE.
The True Story of a Little SqueaHfa
Pig.
When Susie wag a little sqneallng
baby, Uncle Hezekiah adopted her.
She was all alone in the world, and so
was he. He wrapped her in a piece at
old carpet and tucked her Into a box
filled with hay In the wood shed.
" A queer crib for a baby," you say.
But Susie thought it was delightful.
She had never seen such a nice hod
before, for she had been born in tbo
slummiest of slums —to tell the truth,
in a pig pen.
That pigs are really cleanly crea
tures, no one could doub 1 12. who saw
Susie's milk-white coat. She was*
the dearest, sweetest little baby ptpgw
in the world, iier pretty pink note
and little pink ears and the curl of ber
little tail were simply irresistible. So
thought Uncle Hezekiah, as lie fed her
a bowl of warm bread and milk tbrea
times each day.
But pretty soon Susie was able to
feed herself, for baby pigs are not
Fed Her Three Times a Day.
babies long. In a short time she was
trotting all over the farm at her tern
ter-father's heels; out to tho hen
house to feed the chickens; back to
the pump to get a pail of water for
Sam, the old horse; down to the berry
patch to pick berries for supper; over
to the pasture after the cow.
Wherever Uncle Hezekiah went Suale
went, too, or wanted to. It was very
funny to see the old farmer and hiß
faithful follower.
One day Uncle Hezekiah had togo
to town on business. He was already
in sight of the courthouse tower
when lie remembered that he had not
locked Susie in her shed as usual. He
turned around and looked behind him
in some uneasiness. In the distance
was a small cloud of dust. It came
nearer and. nearer.
Yes, it was Susie! She had ?03-
lowed him these three miles to town.
Uncle Hezekiah stopped his horse.
Susie's feet clattered faster over the
dusty road as she saw tbe beloved
face of her master turned toward
her. When she reached the buggy she
gave a joyous grunt of greeting.
"Well, Susie, what does this mean?"
Uncle Hezekiah spoke sternly. "No
one told you you might come. Go
straight home!'
The joyous twist of Susie's tail ail
wound, and she stood looking at biro
with mournful eyes, as he whipped np
his horse and rolled away as fast ae
Sam's stiff old legs could carry him.
It was eight o'clock in the evening
before Uncle Hezekiah had finished
his errands and started for the farm.
He had reached the top of the hil!
where he had left Susie in the after
noon. when he thought he heard a
familiar sound in the darkness.
listened:
"Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!"
The tones were as full of love an®
longing as pig language can expran.
It was the voice of the faithful SusSe?
She had waited for him all the after 1
noon and evening in this same .spot
where he had left her. How could h«
scold her?
"Is that you, Susie, my girl?** b*
called. "Well! well! You must be
hungry. So am I. Let's go home as
fast as we can and get some supper.**
Susie trotted happily along under
tho buggy. She was a very intelligent
pig, and she pricked up her pink ears
to try to hear that song Uncle Heae
kiah was chanting in his deep bass.
He was chuckling so she could hardly
understand him, but it sounded li'kej
"This little pig went to market.
This little pig stayed at home.
This little pig cried: 'Wee, wee, wee!*
1 can't find my way home."
—Martha D. Taylor, in Detroit Free-
Press.
FOR WILLING FINGERS.
A Sewing Convenience Which Mother
Will Like.
Would you like to make this uswful
and ornamental sewing convenieoeeT
It is easy to make.
flW&o, and will be much.
appreciated by
V/J/ your mother, sia-
Hi |\ ter or friend. The
(J b \ pin cushion,
a\ i A. needlebook and
I scissor-case are
J m&i fashioned of any
■'* rap small pieces of
Ajajra | JJ silk or satin that
Jago! V you may happen
\j to have. Tii «-
emery bag is made of red flannel to
represent a strawberry, or of brown
cloth to look like an acorn. It is filled
with emery. Fasten -to each article *
strip of ribbon a half yard in length.
Join these at the top with a bow aud
sew a large safetypin on the under
side of the bow for the purpose '
pinning this dainty sewing eonveafc
ence to the dress of the user.
Could Gladys Spare It?
"Sir, 1 waut your daughter's haad."'
"You may have It with the greatest
pleasure, dear boy, If you'll take dw
oa« that'a alwaya la ray povlwt"
13