XI. 



A RIDE WITH A MAD HORSE IN A 

 FREIGHT-CAR. 



SHOULD the reader ever visit the south inlet 

 of Eacquette Lake, — one of the loveliest bits 

 of water in the Adirondack Wilderness, — at the 

 lower end of the pool, below the falls, on the left- 

 hand side gomg up, he will see the charred rem- 

 nants of a camp-fire. It was there that the fol- 

 lowing story was first told, — told, too, so graphi- 

 cally, with such vividness, that I found little diffi- 

 culty, when writing it out from memory, two 

 months later, in recalling the exact words of the 

 narrator in almost every instance. 



It was in the month of July, 1868, that John 

 and I, having located our permanent camp on 

 Constable's Point, were lying off and on, as sailors 

 say, about the lake, pushing our explorations on aU 

 sides out of sheer love of novelty and abhorrence 

 of idleness. We were returning, late one afternoon 

 of a hot, sultry day, from a trip to Shedd Lake, — a 

 lonely, out-of-the-way spot which few sportsmen 

 have ever visited, — and had reached the falls on 

 South Inlet just after sunset. As we were getting 



