90 A TRAMP IN THE CATSKILLS 



It was a homely, welcome sound. As I returned to 

 camp at twilight, along the shore of the lake, the frogs 

 also were in full chorus. The older ones ripped out 

 their responses to each other with terrific force and 

 volume. I know of no other animal capable of giv- 

 ing forth so much sound, in proportion to its size, as 

 a frog. Some of these seemed to bellow as loud as a 

 two-year-old bull. They were of immense size, and 

 very abundant. No frog-eater had ever been there. 

 Near the shore we felled a tree which reached far out 

 in the lake. Upon the trunk and branches the frogs 

 had soon collected in large numbers, and gamboled 

 and splashed about the half-submerged top, like a 

 parcel of schoolboys, making nearly as much noise. 



After dark, as I was frying the fish, a panful of the 

 largest trout was accidentally capsized in the fire. With 

 rueful countenances we contemplated the irreparable 

 loss our commissariat had sustained by this mishap; 

 but remembering there was virtue in ashes, we poked 

 the half-consumed fish from the bed of coals and ate 

 them, and they were good. 



We lodged that night on a brush-heap and slept 

 soundly. The green, yielding beech-twigs, covered 

 with a buffalo robe, were equal to a hair mattress. 

 The heat and smoke from a large fire kindled in 

 the afternoon had banished every "no-see-em" from 

 the locality, and in the morning the sun was above the 

 mountain before we awoke. 



I immediately started again for the inlet, and went 

 far up the stream toward its source. A fair string of 

 trout for breakfast was my reward. The cattle with 

 the bell were at the head of the valley, where they had 

 passed the night. Most of them were two-year-old 



