398 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



svith their borders of quaking aspeu, added to the 

 beauty of the scene. From the height on which we stood, 

 and through a gap in the peaks, hut many miles from us, we 

 could distinctly see the mountain of the Holy Cross. Old 

 George said ■. " When cr Mexican sees that hill he alters takes 

 off his hat." lie replied, 



" Well, George," suiting the action to the word, " so do 

 I; and why should we not? it is the emblem of our faith." 



It was my second sight of the Cross. Once before, in early 

 spring, while working a placer at the extreme head of the Ar- 

 kansas and northwest of tb.B Twin Lakes— the most beautiful 

 spot in America, if not iu the world— the melting snow 

 the little stream, washed away our sluice boxes, and drove us 

 out of the gulch. We concluded to cross the range by way of 

 the Indian trail near Mount Lincoln, and work down to the 

 new Utah silver loads on the Rio Dolores. Late in the even- 

 ing we came in sight of the mount. The snow had melted 

 off the sides, but. the gulches forming the Cr0S3 were filled 

 with the winter's accumulation. It stood out at that time a 

 great, white cross. The gloom of evening had already settled 

 over the valley and the canyons, hut the last rays of the 

 setting sun struck the mountain, and as the fading beams 

 flashed over the sparkling snow it looked as if it was studded 

 with diamonds and brilliant gems, while surrounding it on all 

 sides were the great black hills with their snow-capped peaks. 

 No wonder that the Mexican should take off his hat to a 

 scene so sublimely suggestive of his faith. It required no 

 great stretch of the imagination to fancy the hundred dark 

 hills and peaks surrounding it the stone roof of some grand 

 old cathedral, and the mountain of the cross the great dome 

 towering above it with the glittering emblem. I thought it 

 equally as beautiful, and fax mote impressive in its gloomy 

 grandeur, than its heavenly prototype, the constellation of 

 the Southern Cross, that flashes its rays over the waters of the 

 Pacific. 



Forcing our way through* the low hanging branches of the 

 pigeons (mind, not pinons or pinyons, but pignoiu, and for 

 the proper spelling I refer you to ^any Spanish or Mexican 

 scholar), we soon struck the underbrush of wild black currant 

 hushes that skirted the base of the mountain. While leisurely 

 sauntering along and picking up the over-ripe fruit, for it was 

 late fall, we were brought to a sudden halt by an ugly growl 

 and a tawny mass in a small pignon tree. Old George spoke 

 iu quick tones : 



" A Mexican lion. Take his eyes with your shot-gun, and 

 don't missl" 



Dropping on oue knee, I took a quick aim and fired both 

 charges of buckshot at the ugly eyes, and as I jumped behind 

 a large tree the wounded and enraged brute landed on the 

 snot where I had knelt, but the Parker had done its work. 

 The whole face was torn to pieces, and, as we afterward saw, 

 the eyes were blown out. Old George, with his rifle almost 

 in the animal's ear, fired, and said : 



" I could he,v killed him when he jumped, but I wasafeared 

 of bitten you. That ere shot consarn hurt him powerfully. I 

 hev often heard they were good for puttin' out a b'ar's eyes, 

 and they work just as well on them beasts. When you hev a 

 varmint's eyes out you hev just as good as got his hide. This 

 yer is a nice skin, but yer spoilt his head. Them 'ere shot- 

 guns spoil peltries. Now that 'ere way of dropping down on 

 yer knee to shoot ain't right. I have hern tell about them 

 fancy shots layin' on thar backs and bellies and shootin' 

 atween thar knees and toes and sich like, but it won't do out 

 here. If a beast jumps he has got yer down of yer own ac- 

 count, and yer didn't draw yer knife afore yer fired. I allers 

 wants steel atween my teeth when I tackle sich brutes." 



Hanging the beautiful skin of the jaguar, JfeUa onca, on a 

 wee, we pushed down into the valley after antelope, but the 

 shy creatures kept a mile between us, and, as we had plenty 

 of meat in camp, we did not take time to decoy them. We 

 saw a fine specimen of Mephitis chinga, I wanted George to 

 shoot, but he said ho ''wouldn't waste a ball on the durned 

 thing," and, as I had caught one in a rabbit trap in my school- 

 hoy days — well, I thought I had a rabbit and grabbed, and it 

 offended me, "An offence that in its raukness smelled to 

 heaven." While driving cattle over the great plains from 

 the Huerfano to Dodge City, I have seen many hundreds of 

 thein. That hunter's paradise, the Valley of the Gunnison, is 

 also infested with them. On one occasion we were returning 

 from Dodge to the mountains in the cars. A young lady sit- 

 ting near exclaimed, ''Oh! see, see there I What a pretty 

 little animal I What is it ?" 



Her question-was answered by a general slamming down of 

 the car windows, and an elderly lady exclaiming. " Oh .' what 

 a horrid smell!" 



Alter shooting a few curlew we reached the lake, and what 

 a sight for the duck hunter. They were massed closer than I 

 had ever Been them before, andl have shot them in the ducks' 

 heaven, the Tullare Lakes, on the southern Pacific coast. 



Ducks in variety: brant, Bernkla brenta, and geese, Ber- 

 micla canadensis, out on the lake; mud-hen3, Rallm 

 crepitans, along the shallows ; snipe, Gallignago WiUonii, and 

 curlew, Numenim arijuata, on the sand. Professor Hayden's 

 parly was in this valley about a year ago, and the air is still 

 impregnated with scientific names, hence the above. 



The mountain parks are the summer home, the breeding- 

 ground of the wild fowl. Ever}' variety is liere. Will some 

 naturalist explain how the fi=h-duck manages to live on these 

 lakes or ponds, where there are no fish, for here they do live 

 during the breeding season ; and a young fish-duck! shot late 

 iu the fall, just before migrating time., is a delicacy. The 

 flesh is absolutely free of the flavor, for it has never yet bad 

 the opportunity to taste fish. In speaking of lakes or ponds 

 in which there aie no fish, I am not alluding to the Twin 

 Lakes, for I have been there with rod and line ; but f mean 

 the large, shallow ponds lower down 



In the partially dried up lakes of the great San Luis Park 

 curlew can be shot by the wagon load. 



i have driven cattle along the roads after a heavy shower, 

 and out of every mud-puddle the snipe would rise by hun- 

 dreds, but not until the catties' hoofs were splashing among 

 them. 



Approaching the shores of the lake the ducks— rot timid, 

 but evidenilj suspicious— swarm out una! h great bunch were 

 huddled about one hundred and fifty feet from me. .Old 

 George swung bis hat and halloed, the bunch look wing, and 

 I gent both barrels alter them. There was a terrific JJ 

 and sputtering, a rise from other raits of the lake, and 

 Of mud-liens lb 



licks dropped into ti their feet up. Before 



the smoke had cleared away I realized that such a BD 

 port, but something that any sportsman onghl 

 ashamed of, Standing edit in 



my mind with the real sport of other days; the lis. ■ 



irl iugrpoint ; the. launch 

 he turn duck boat, the thirty miles float down 

 al beautiful rivers— the Susquehanna— I 



scenery Of island, hill and dale, a scenery more varied and 

 more beautiful, if not bo grand, as that now surrounding me. 

 Then the occasional sight of a bunch of ducks, thi 

 paddling and the cautious anproach with the boat on her side 

 upon game that was watching for you and that made you use 

 your nerve and skill to approach. Ah I that was sport, but 

 this was pot-hunting. I was recalled to myself by old George. 



" Wall, how are yer going ter git 'cm out?" 

 Throwing off my buckskin, I plunged into the water and 

 soon had them piled on the shore. At this moment Hank 

 and his party, who had made the circuit of the gulch, ap- 

 proached the lake. They were very much surprised at seeing 

 a man dressed in the suit of clothes that Adam wore before 

 the fall prancing up and down on the sand to get up a circu- 

 lation. 



Thirteen ducks ! Well, it was the second shot of that kind 

 that I had made, and I promised myself it would be the last, 

 unless I was pressed for food. The first was while hunting 

 on the Susquehanna. We had had a long, hard day's work, 

 and but little game. Toward evening, while rounding the 

 point of an island, we caught sight of a number of heads 

 through the long grass. Quickly backing water, we ran into 

 the lee of the island. I got out, crept up the bank, intending 

 to get the first shot and drive them down and over the boat 

 for my companions to take on the wing. Peering cautiously 

 through the weeds, I could just Bee the heads. I pulled both 

 triggers at once, aud my ears wore greeted with the old fa- 

 miliar quack! quack! of the tame duck. Raising up, I saw 

 the most melancholy procession that ever greeted a sports- 

 man's eye. They were marching up the bank, single file, 

 some lame, others with their wings down, and others drag- 

 ging along as best they could. It reminded me of a Wall 

 street procession after a corner. - : When I got to the boat I 

 found that Ed had picked up seven dead ones that had float- 

 ed down to him, saying : " Well, it was a mistake, but as 

 they are killed we may as well eat them. What business hud 

 tame ducks hiding in the grass in such a place f " I met him 

 a week afterward and asked him how he liked ducks. He 

 replied: "Don't say duck to me. I have been fed on duck, 

 drake and niuscovy every day for a week." 



Neither party having struck bruin's trail, we concluded to 

 return to camp, and exchange the hunter's weapons for the 

 miner's tools— sport for hard work. It was my turn to cook. 

 I concluded to give the boys broiled duck and bear soup. So, 

 taking that inseparable friend of the miner— the Dutch oven 

 — I filled it with clear water, choice bits of bear, the last 

 onion in camp, potatoes, and, to flavor it, a few sage tops. 

 The latter was a happy thought— an experiment in cookery. 

 At dinner Hank took a spoonful, made a wry face and re- 

 marked : 



"There's something in that soup." 



Harry, after tasting, set his tin cup carefully on the ground, 

 looked at me reproachfully and said : "How did you manage 

 to shoot a sage-hen up here this time the year ? and why in 

 thunder did you stick her in the soup when we've lots of 

 good game?" 



Cooper, after tasting, cut a slice of bear steak, and prepar- 

 ing to toast it over the coals, said : "I prefer my bear straight 

 — no mixing bear and sage-hen for me." 



Old George, coming to my rescue, said : " Waal, boys, the 

 cookin' is all right, but the cinnamon in the bar has spoiled 

 the soup." 



It was about as palatable as Smally's hasty plate of goose 

 soup, in which he boiled a goose, web feet, inwards, and all 

 with a good sprinkling of feathers, and then fed the potfull 

 to the officers of a Pennsylvania militia regiment to keep 

 their courage up whilst they were within hearing, but not 

 within reach, of Antletam's booming guns. 



" There was something in that soup." 



After a late dinner we went up to our mine to put in a 

 couple of hours' work before bed time, Harry and I started 

 for a bucket of water. We had got half way down to the 

 brook and were leisurely swiugiug the camp kettle between 

 us, when within two hundred yards and coming directly to- 

 ward us, was an immense cinnamon bear and a cub. She 

 had caught sight of us first, and was in the act of raising up 

 on her hind legs. We dropped our weapon — the camp kettle 

 —and shot up that mountain on the jump. The kettle bound- 

 ed down from rock to rock, but we did not wait to see the 

 effect. I was thinking of the dead bear down in camp and 

 of the loving embrace I would get from this, his widow, 

 if she caught me. Our breathless arrival at the mine stopped 

 work, and as the rifles were 'all da ivn in the tent, we armed 

 with picks, crowbars and drills, and would have started for 

 the bear but George stopped us, saying: "Boys, yer fools I 

 Thar's nothin' uglier than a bar with a cub. I never likes to 

 tackle a bar at best, and if you go at that one with them 

 kind er tools some on yer will git an ear chawed off. Now, 

 mind !" 



We afterwards found the camp kettle pretty well dinged 

 by the rocks, but never got a shot at the bear. J. A. B. 



For Forest and Stream and Rod and Gun. 

 DOWN THE PENOBSCOT BY CANOE. 



i 



FROM Kipogenus, one of the wildest spots in the wilder- 

 ness of Maine, I send you an imperfect description of 

 our trip up Moosehead Lake and down the Penobscot, or two 

 hundred miles in canoes. To lovers of outdoor sports acd 

 roughing experiences, this route we have just completed of- 

 fers more varied attractions for rod and gun than any I 

 have ever seen. 



We left Bangor Thursday morning, Aug. 29, over the 

 European Railway to Old Town, thence by Bangor and Pis- 

 cataquis to Blanchard, where we arrived without incident, 

 except taking up the guides and canoes at Pea Cove. Mel's 

 first examination of the frail looking barks which were to 

 carry us five and all our luggage over a long, rough voyage, 

 was ludicrous, and his expressions of timidity and contempt 

 for them were only equaled by his swaggering confidence and 

 expressed ability to handle one anywhere after his first day's 

 tide. 



Leaving the cars at Blanchard, we were, canoes and all, 

 stowed in and about the six-horse coaches that were to con- 

 vey us twelve miles to Greenville, at the foot of the lake. A 

 hot, Uncomfortable ride, rendered monotonous by the hilly 

 and rough condition of the road. The tedium 

 I Greenville and 



Lake were reached about, three o'clock, and finding 

 steamer in waiting, we embarked for Mt. Kineo. 



Our sail was moat enjoyable after our dusty ride. Eighteen 

 miles of delightful scenery, of which Mt, .Spencer's conical 

 elevation is most noticeable. Deer and Sugar islands, with 

 Mt. Kineo overtopping them, were plainly seen in the clear 

 atmosphere, fifteen miles away. The little steam. 

 gaily over this inland sea at the rate of ten miles an hour, and 

 her genial commander, Capt. Robinson, proved most patient 

 and kind iu answering every imaginable inquiry. 



Stopping at Kineo House only long enough "to get a good 

 supper and examine some fine specimens" of trout, we em- 

 barked again at seven o'clock and were rapidly moving toward 

 our destination, twenty miles away. What a quiet, moonless, 

 starless ride! Nothing broke the absolute stillness of the 

 night, except the monotonous beating of the screw and Spen- 

 ce's snoring. Of what was he dreaming ? Was it of Pine 

 Stream or Ledge Falls in anticipation of their wild rush of 

 walers? or was it breathing indignation against Mel for his 

 csntempt of the canoes ? We reached the head of the lake 

 in two hours. Unloading canoes and lugg. .. 

 the steamer, which was soon out of sight in the darkness, 

 and settled for the night upon mattresses in the landlord's 

 parlor. This was a good day's work and safely accomplished 

 —nearly one hundred miles on rail, stage and steamer. 



Friday morning was bright and cool/ While breakfast was 

 being prepared, Bricktop gave Mel. his first ride in a canoe. 

 Taking his seat in the bottom with considerable agitation, 

 they started around the shore of the lake, not a breath dis- 

 turbing its glassy surface. They had not been gone ten min- 

 utes when Mel , finding he could draw a full breath without 

 capsizing, became possessed of that over-confidence which so 

 nearly proved fatal to himself and his friends later on. After 

 an early breakfast we loaded canoes and supplies on a wagon 

 and started across our first carry— two miles over a good road. 



The distinctive qualities of our party as sportsmen early 

 asserted themselves. Vose proved the best man with the rod, 

 and one who never let chances, like Sunbeams, pass by: Mel., 

 being a " little lame," the best walker and talker, and could 

 endure the hardships of the carries belter than any one of the 

 party; Bricktop, the best man with the gun ; William, the 

 best of cooks, literally our saviour after many tramps, from 

 which we returned wet and hungry— a man out of place so 

 far from home, being strongly domestic in his habits, but 

 strong of limb and tough as" steel ; and Spence, brave Old 

 Spence, the best man living with puddle and pole. Without 

 thee, Spence, we would have been nothing. Strong of limb 

 and quick of eye, with form erect, the baggy portion of your 

 breeches fluttering gleefully in the wind, hat off, and hair 

 erect, with a determined honest grin on your sun-hardened 

 face, with a whoop and a shout we have run many wild places 

 in old Penobscot safe aud well with you in the stern ! 



At half-past eight we were in sight of the Penobscot, west 

 branch, and a few moments later were resting upon the 

 banks. The river is without current, so far as we could see, 

 aud with its banks closely wooded to the water's edge, made 

 a charming view in the quiet summer morning. After giving 

 the canoes a coat of pitch, we were soon afloat with allot our 

 traps. We paddled easily along, not a sound disturbing the 

 silence about us except the splash of the paddle and our own 

 voices. About two miles from the carry we came to the 

 mouth of Lobster Leke, and as we were silently gliding by, an 

 exclamation of "Deer I" from William brought Bricktop to his 

 feet, gun in hand. Paddling cautiously toward the shore from 

 which we heard sounds of hoofed feet, they parted the bushes 

 and disappeared up the bank. W r e waited breathlessly for the 

 report— visions of savory steak and venison floating before us 

 — until they reappeared in animated discussion -William, 

 disgusted with Bricktop because he did wA fire, and he main- 

 taining that the creature's tail was too elongated for deer. We 

 became satisfied from Bricktop's superior knowledge in hunt- 

 ing matters, that William was insisting upon his slaying one 

 of Morris' calves. We proceeded without further accident 

 until noon, when, coming to a ledge high and dry in the river, 

 we pulled up, and had our first meal in the woods. We were 

 soon under way again, and had made good time, passing 

 Moosehorn and Ragmuff streams during the morning. The 

 water was "dead," with the exception of two or three gentle 

 rapids, all the way. shortly after dinner wesaw an immense. 

 flock of sheldrake, and Bricktop, with admirable aim, brought 

 down seven at the first shot, and nine at the second. They 

 kept ahead of us at a short distance all the way to Chesun- 

 cook, and Bricktop could have easily supplied a mo 

 ment with ducks had we not persuaded him to cease useless 

 slaughter. 



About three o'clock we came to the mouth of Pine Stream, 

 and our first rapids in the falls below. Rapids they were, 

 assuredly. It seemed almost impossible to run the canoes over 

 them without capsizing and losing everything. Vose and 

 Mel. stepped ashore to try the trout in the stream, while 

 Spence, in one canoe, and William with Bricktop in the 

 other, made for the rapids with a rush and roar all about 

 them. How, the canoes were almost on their beam ends ; 

 again, dodging big rocks, crested with white foam, and then 

 down, down into the wilder sweeps of most turbulent water 

 into the calm eddy below. A most exciting ride and safely 

 accomplished. We passed Rocky Rapids and other rapids 

 safely. The swift rushing motion of the canoes through the 

 rapids, aud the excitement attending it, makes an agreeable 

 change from the calm water we hud passed over. About this 

 time Vose became anxious (o make a shot, and a poor little 

 squirrel swimming across the stream was selected for bis 

 victim, because Spence told him it would be a sign of ill luck, 

 according to Indian tradition, to have him cross our bows. 



We came iu sight oF Chesuncook Lake shortly afterward. 

 What a beautiful sheet of water, and how lovely it looked in 

 the fading light of the sun ! Not a ripple disturbed its sur- 

 face, and, far as we could see. it looked like an immense 

 mirror, reflecting the sky-golden sunset clouds, and its beauti- 

 fully wooded shores. 



Passing the head of the lake, wc came in sight of the only 

 clearing we had seen for the day. All the day lone 

 lay through a lovely quiet wilderness, the woods coming to 

 the water's edge without a break for the entire distance. 



Passing into Cancomogomic stream, we had a del i 

 for two miles, the strong sunset light makil 

 reflections that we seemed suspends 

 We made our first camp neat 



toon had tent pitched and supper lu progress, Wbi 

 had the honor of Bee 

 mate, and n 



;US in solid con:;' 



, , i 



seven o'clock Reaching the lake, we ma 



