390 



RECREATION 



on out-of-door life is the inability to 

 classify time, places or events. All is 

 so the antipodes of one's ordinary home 

 routine that the happenings of one 

 minute are lost in the wide-awake re- 

 ceptiveness for what the next may 

 bring. 



Mountains here on the main Dela- 

 ware seemed as before — jealous of the 

 space occupied by the river. A niche 

 had been hewed in them for the rail- 

 road to follow, while casual roads. and 



hundred, but death took him before he 

 had killed the one more Indian neces- 

 sary to complete his collection and make 

 good his vow. 



Just below Calicoon we came upon a 

 bevy of dames and damsels ranged in a 

 semi-circle at the water's brink. Pad- 

 dling straight at them, we said : 



"Look pleasant now,, please; we are 

 going to take your picture." 



What, then, was our dismay to find 

 that a fair maiden already had a wire- 



IN EASY WATER 



houses appeared to be hanging on to 

 the steep sides by suction. The river 

 itself, full from recent rains, playfully, 

 yet not angrily, jostled and shoved us 

 along from one piece of rough water to 

 another. 



We had passed through the country 

 made famous by Cooper's novel of the 

 "Last of the Mohicans," and were now 

 in the hunting ground of Old Bill 

 Quick, the Indian hater. It was in this 

 neighborhood that he gathered his col- 

 lection of Indian heads — ninety-nine of 

 them ! He had vowed to make it a 



wound, high-velocity, smokeless-pow- 

 der camera trained and primed upon us. 

 The situation was saved, however, with 

 an exchange of addresses and a 

 promise to exchange views when de- 

 veloped. 



We were accommodated that night at 

 Milan ville, Pa., by a wealthy farmer, 

 M. L. Skinner, whose house is on the 

 verge of Cochecton Falls. This is a 

 wild tumble with a bad name. The 

 river seems to . have hewn a course 

 through solid rock, and to have used a 

 hammer in the operation. The work 



