40 RIVERBY 



rocks and boulders. How clean it looked, what pu- 

 rity ! Civilization corrupts the streams as it corrupts 

 the Indian ; only in such remote woods can you now 

 see a brook in all its original freshness and beauty. 

 Only the sea and the mountain forest brook are pure ; 

 all between is contaminated more or less by the work 

 of man. An ideal trout brook was this, now hurry- 

 ing, now loitering, now deepening around a great 

 boulder, now gliding evenly over a pavement of 

 green-gray stone and pebbles; no sediment or stain 

 of any kind, but white and sparkling as snow-water, 

 and nearly as cool. Indeed, the water of all this 

 Catskill region is the best in the world. For the 

 first few days, one feels as if he could almost live on 

 the watejr alone; he cannot drink enough of it. In 

 this particular it is indeed the good Bible land, "a 

 land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that 

 spring out of valleys and hills." 



Near the forks we caught, or thought we caught, 

 through an opening, a glimpse of Slide. Was it 

 Slide ? was it the head, or the rump, or the shoulder 

 of the shaggy monster we were in quest of 1 At the 

 forks there was a bewildering maze of underbrush 

 and great trees, and the way did not seem at all cer- 

 tain ; nor was David, who was then at the end of his 

 reckoning, able to reassure us. But in assaulting a 

 mountain, as in assaulting a fort, boldness is the 

 watchword. We pressed forward, following a line 

 of blazed trees for nearly a mile, then, turning to the 

 left, began the ascent of the mountain. It was steep, 

 hard climbing. We saw numerous marks of both 



