1895 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



443 



RAMBLE 133. 



IN THE MENDOCINO MOUNTAINS. 



By Rambler. 



Lakeport we were advised 

 to leave the county byway 

 of Scott's Valley and the 

 Blue Lakes. We accepted 

 the advice, and through 

 the valley we go. Here 

 we find again a general 

 farming community. 

 Many hop-fields 

 abound; and as it was 

 nearing the time of 

 gathering, a large 

 band of Indians had arrived from some not 

 remote reservation, and were camped on the 

 sandy shore of the river, and their camp made 

 a lively and picturesque scene. 



Blue Lakes were rightly named. The waters 

 are clear, and of a bluish cast. Three little 



in Mendocino Co., there was a fine running 

 stream full of fish; rabbits in the brush, quail 

 in the grass, and deer on the mountain; and 

 from thence it was hurrah for the game. It 

 was after dark when we found a good camping- 

 place; but darkness had to flee when Bro. 

 Pryal started a camp-fire. Old floodwood was 

 piled up all along the stream; and, what a 

 roaring camp-fire we enjoyed! Plans were 

 laid for the morrow, and we could already see 

 fish and game piled up all around our camp. 



Before the gray of dawn appeared. Wilder 

 was ofT with his rifle in quest of deer. Pryal 

 and I fished. After about two hours angling 1 

 caught one 4-oz. trout; returned to camp; 

 dressed, cooked, and ate my fish. In about an 

 hour Pryal returned with one little fish and a 

 long record of bites. His fish was also cooked 

 and eaten, without much comment. I believe 

 I suggested that we had forgotten to catch a 

 fish for Wilder, whereupon Pryal thought we'd 

 have to serve him with the bites. 



Wilder soon appeared on the mesa beyond 



MOUNTAINEERS. 



lakes were linked together like a chain, and set 

 like so many gems in the folds of the mountains. 

 Bold bluffs, placid waters, mountains shading 

 off into the smoky distance, gave us views 

 pleasing to look upon. 



Of course, Mr. Pryal had to clamber out on a 

 log to fish. Result, some splendid— bites! We 

 had set our minds to camp at the last of these 

 lakes; but an honest-looking freighter we met 

 told us that, a few miles further down, just over 



our camp. Said I, " Wilder has shot a deer." 

 " What makes you think so ? " said Pryal. 

 " Why, just see how he grinds his heels into 

 the ground; and see how rapidly he walks." 



So it proved. Susan B. was hitched to the 

 cart, and away they trotted up the canyon. A 

 fine buck, "mit horns so vide," was soon dan- 

 gling to a limb in camp, and that day was de- 

 voted to eating venison, and jerking for future 

 use the portion we could not eat. 



