HATHORN's camp. — TO FORKED LAKE. 193 



on the Yellow Sand Beach of South Bay. It is a notable 

 and unique camp, veiy pleasant, convenient and M'ell con- 

 ducted by a genuine woodsman who knows how to draw a 

 bead on a deer, write a charming- account of it, and to keep 

 a hotel, — a combination of accomplishments which makes 

 it worth the while of the tourist to be his guest, if he does 

 not care for more primitive camping or the responsibilities 

 of forest house-keeping on his own account. 



Another day we made an excursion to Forked Lake, 

 passing through the northern and large, open portion 

 of Raquette Lake. We had scarcel}-^ got well under way, 

 when a lieavy thunderstorm descended upon us in a blind- 

 ing fur}^ of waters. Pushing for the nearest shore, we 

 landed upon Dog Point (wherefore " Dog" Point, I know 

 not) where, most fortunately, we found an open bark camp, 

 whose occupants were absent. We took possession and 

 lounged and smoked under the goodlj^ shelter vmtil the 

 storm ceased. It is tlie fashion of the woods for guides and 

 sportsmen to make free use of all camps as the}' may need, 

 in an emergency, faithfully abstaining from any misuse or 

 al)use. And the hearts of true woodsmen are as open as 

 their liark camps, and their hospitalities as free as the air. 

 A curmudgeon has no business in the woods, but if he has, 

 I think he will shed his shell in a week. 



Forked Lake is reached b}' a short and easy carry, much 

 like a country' road. We spent most of the day in alter- 

 nate sunshine and showers, rowing up the main inlet from 

 the west, where we fished with indifferent success, and also 

 to the north end of the lake. The shores are of singular 



