CAMPING AT INDIAN LAKE. 
THOMAS A. BENNETT. 
Our idea of camping on Indian lake, 2 
miles from Millerton and 100 miles from 
New York City, was born 3 years ago when 
my fishing chum, John Campbell, set out to 
look into catalogues and camp cook books. 
During most of one winter he lay awake 
half the night making up a list of articles 
needed. Abercrombie & Fitch were se- 
lected to outfit the now famous Camp Edna. 
John is a systematic and thrifty chap, and 
nothing was too good for him, so in due 
course of time our temporary headquarters 
on a farm near Millerton was packed with 
waterproof tents, aluminum kitchenware, 
sheet iron stove, collapsible cots, chairs and 
tables, blankets, etc. 
I left New York a few days ahead of 
schedule time to select a spot near the lake 
where we could pitch our tents for one 
week. I found a little eminence in the 
woods partly cleared, with a spring of ex- 
cellent water near. With the help of an ax 
brigade, I soon had the stumps leveled, and 
by cutting a trail to the lake was enabled to 
save many steps for our party. 
As Saturday, August 30, 1902, approached 
everything was on edge pending the arrival 
of John, Winnie Smith, Bob Walker and 
Dick Pate from New York. Orders were 
given for a side of bacon, to pounds of salt 
pork, % barrel of beans, 6 packages of pre- 
pared flour, 5 hams and unnumbered sun- 
dries. Our friends’ arrival was a signal 
for a genuine war whoop. Proceeding to 
our storage warehouse, the hard, but pleas- 
ant work of going into seclusion and camp 
began. Loading our stuff on a large lum- 
ber wagon, and our new skiff on an extra 
wagon, we set out amid cheers and well 
wishes. Reaching the site about 3 p .m., 
we got the sleeping and kitchen tents ready 
and gathered a quantity of wood. John in- 
sisted on having coffee at once. Following 
our attack on the larder, lights were ex- 
tinguished and all slept except the mos- 
quitoes, our first visitors in camp. I am in- 
clined to think Winnie Smith, who came 
from New Jersey, unloaded them on us. 
At dawn I arose, dressed, gave 3 long 
blasts on the horn and the boys were wide 
awake. It was Sunday, but we resolved 
to lay in a good supply of wood to feed 
2 fires and cook enough to satisfy our ap- 
petites, which increased alarmingly. It re- 
quired 3 cooks to keep the pot boiling. The 
rest of the camp chased after wood and 
water. It seemed as if that day we did 
nothing but eat, drink and wash dishes. 
Monday morning we prepared to do some 
tall fishing. Soon after breakfast we put 
our rods in shape, gathered a quart of crick- 
ets and went down to the lake. We had 
no sooner left our anchorage, having con- 
cluded to troll a few minutes, than Winnie 
struck a 2-pounder. The water was just 
right for bass fishing, having a gentle ripple. 
We were favored with good sport and 
landed enough bass for our table that day 
with a few perch thrown in, the bass weigh- 
ing one to 2 pounds each. Tuesday morn- 
ing we again tried the bass grounds in the 
lake. I soon had a tremendous tug with 
not over 15 feet of line out and began to 
reel in my short slack, calling to Smith to 
eet the net. The bass came in sight once 
and was gone, a 5-pounder at least. We 
tried another spot and in an hour had land- 
ed 7 good sized bass. This took us to 
dinner time. We rowed back to camp and 
found lady visitors in possession, John’s 
better half and friends. They volunteered 
to do the cooking and wash the dishes. 
As they were unable to go home so late, 
we gave them our sleeping tent, and impro- 
vised a blanket shelter for ourselves. 
Promptly at 5 a. m. the horn biew and 
with a hastily made toilet the ladies showed 
themselves true campers. After breakfast 
we invited them to go bass fishing and their 
efforts were rewarded with 6 one and 2 
pound bass. We were loath to have the 
ladies leave, and for 2 days we entertained 
them. Poor Bob Walker had to go back 
to the city and lamented the fact. Visitors 
came and inspected our camp daily. During 
intervals we managed to go swimming and 
fishing to our heart’s content, not forgetting 
to pan broil our bass. Saturday came al- 
together too soon, and, our week being up, 
we pulled up stakes, resolved to come again 
another year. 
Mrs. Suburban—There goes Mrs. Tough-_ 
man. Is she in mourning for her late hus- 
band ? 
Mrs. 
Knowit—No; 
only wearing black 
for him.—Cincinnati Times-Star. 
358 
