“An uncle of mine, of the name of Samuel Teter, occupied the same camp for several years in succession.  It was situated on one of the southern branches of Cross Creek.  Although I lived for many years not more than fifteen miles from the place, it was not till within a very few years ago that I discovered its situation.  It was shown me by a gentleman living in the neighborhood.  Viewing the hills round about it I soon perceived the sagacity of the hunter in the site for his camp.  Not a wind could touch him; and unless by the report of his gun or the sound of his axe, it would have been by mere accident if an Indian had discovered his concealment.

“Hunting was not a mere ramble in pursuit of game, in which there was nothing of skill and calculation; on the contrary, the hunter, before he set out in the morning, was informed, by the state of the weather, in what situation he might reasonably expect to meet with his game; whether on the bottoms, sides or tops of the hills.  In stormy weather, the deer always seek the most sheltered places, and the leeward side of the hills.  In rainy weather, in which there is not much wind, they keep in the open woods on the highest ground.

“In every situation it was requisite for the hunter to ascertain the course of the wind, so as to get the leeward of the game.  This he effected by putting his finger in his mouth, and holding it there until it became warm, then holding it above his head, the side which first becomes cold shows which way the wind blows.

“As it was requisite too for the hunter to know the cardinal points, he had only to observe the trees to ascertain them.  The bark of an aged tree is thicker and much rougher on the north than on the south side.  The same thing may be said of the moss:  it is much thicker and stronger on the north than on the south side of the trees.

“The whole business of the hunter consists of a succession of intrigues.  From morning till night he was on the alert to gain the wind of his game, and approach them without being discovered.  If he succeeded in killing a deer, he skinned it, and hung it up out of the reach of the wolves, and immediately resumed the chase till the close of the evening, when he bent his course toward the camp; when he arrived there he kindled up his fire, and together with his fellow hunter, cooked his supper.  The supper finished, the adventures of the day furnished the tales for the evening.  The spike buck, the two and three-pronged buck, the doe and barren doe, figured through their anecdotes with great advantage.  It should seem that after hunting awhile on the same ground, the hunters became acquainted with nearly all the gangs of deer within their range, so as to know each flock of them when they saw them.  Often some old buck, by the means of his superior sagacity and watchfulness, saved his little gang from the hunter’s skill, by giving timely notice of his approach.  The cunning of the hunter and that of the old buck were staked against each other, and it frequently happened that at the conclusion of the hunting season, the old fellow was left the free uninjured tenant of his forest; but if his rival succeeded in bringing him down, the victory, was followed by no small amount of boasting on the part of the conqueror.