THE REFERENDUM 



3^9 



think our red friends wrong in hiding any- 

 thing from the white man's insatiable eye and 

 grasp. 



As late as twenty years back a good, win- 

 ter-killed black-bear hide, dressed as only an 

 Indian squaw can dress it, worth, perhaps, 

 from ten dollars up — especially "up" — at 

 Asheville or Chattanooga, would go at the 

 crude, remote, little mountain stores for a 

 supposable third of that sum; but really for 

 a worthless bundle of mock jewelry, and 

 sweet "store tobac." The cold, hungry-look- 

 ing squaw would then depart in high glee, if 

 the storekeeper had thrown in a box of stale 

 snuff, or a can of embalmed or over-ripe 

 tinned stuff. 



But times are less Arcadian now. Since 

 the Land of the Sky has become a half-way 

 bouse on the road to the "piney woods" and 

 beyond, the Indian, like his white competitor, 

 has profited by experience. As guides they 

 are simply at home ; even in the roughest lau- 

 rel, the most bewildering labyrinth of those 

 remote rgions, where the mighty mother says 

 to her wild children, sick, weary, hunted, 

 wounded : 



"Here will I shelter you until you are rest- 

 ed, or well, or dead ; therefore, come hither." 



In time, however, your Indian guide will 

 find them, wherever they are ; and pilot you 

 and yours, with whatever you have creeled, 

 bagged, or he can shoulder; that is — ahem! 

 as long as he will stay sober. 



Generally, he will ; but instances are known 

 when the rare exception seems to over-prove 

 the rule. And then — then . 



For a time the camera held him in awe, 

 as a possible boomerang in the line of ex- 

 plosives ; but he has learned the value of the 

 "talk picture," as well as the once mysterious 

 ''talk-time box," even to the extent of send- 

 ing his own photo to the unwary, as that of 

 some local aboriginal celebrity other than 

 himself. 



William Perry Brown. 



SHOES. 



Editor Recreation : 



It happened, three years ago, that I de- 

 termined to take a walk. For a time I was 

 uncertain as to my destination, but at last 

 settled on "Tennessee" as at a reasonable 

 distance. So with Tennessee in mind, I 

 made up my pack for camping. It weighed 

 just fifty-five pounds when all was in it. I 

 had tent, camera, food, change of clothes, 

 etc., etc. and I prided myself on the com- 

 pleteness of my outfit. 



At first I was in some doubt as to whether 

 1 should wear a pair of old, comfortable, light 

 shoes or a pair of new heavy ones. After 

 trying the heavy ones they seemed best, so 

 they were chosen. 



I left Utica, N. Y., in early October. My 

 course was a bit west of south by compass, 



The roads which led toward Tennessee were 

 the ones I followed. Sometimes, when the 

 trails wound around to the cast or west I 

 left them and went across hills and valleys 

 until I came to a road going my way. 



At first the shoulder straps of my Adiron- 

 dack elm splint basket bothered me most. 

 They cut sharply into my collar bone regio 1, 

 and there were sharp pains in the back of my 

 neck from holding the same position so long. 

 ' After the first week, however, it was blis- 

 tered soles that troubled me. 



Nearly 225 pounds was coming down 0:1 

 each foot at every step, sixty of which wis 

 dead weight. A tiny wrinkle in one stocking 

 raised a blister on top of one foot that felt 

 like a saw log. There were blisters the size 

 of quarters on the balls of both feet. Sundry 

 other smarts and pains developed until my 

 gait was like that of a rheumatic old man. 



I had carried packs over woods, trails and 

 roads. A day's hard pushing up an ordinary 

 Adirondack grade would not have worried 

 me very much, I was used to week-long trips 

 into the woods — trips taken at frequent inter- 

 vals. This journey, however, was not a mere 

 "vacation" sort of expedition. After the first 

 week came a second, and in succession came 

 others. 



My shoulders hardened, my blistered feet 

 ceased to be like water cushions. The mus- 

 cles, which will tire no matter how well 

 trained or how frequently exercised, ceased 

 to ache the aches of soft tissues. 



Just as I was congratulating myself on be- 

 ing in trim, a new and foreign pain mani- 

 fested itself. I had been traveling for more 

 than three weeks, and was well into Penn- 

 sylvania. At first it was a mere irritation in 

 the instep. As the days wore along, the irri- 

 tation passed through the stages of mild 

 hurt, sting, pain, and finally agony. Both feet 

 were affected equally, and every step I felt 

 as though I had put my foot on a knife 

 blade point and the point was splitting the 

 cords of the foot. 



There are pains and refinements of pain. 

 Day by day my insteps increased in their pro- 

 tests against the walking. The time came when 

 I couldn't stand without a succession of keen 

 darts of concentrated agony from my ankles 

 down. A slight swelling of the feet was the 

 only visible effect. 



I kept on thinking that I would toughen 

 the seat of the trouble as easily as I had 

 caloused my shoulders and soles. The time 

 came, however, when, in addition to the 

 thrusts there was a dull, constant ache which 

 prevented sleep. This showed that the trouble 

 was not to be walked out by any amount of 

 endurance; so one day, almost discouraged, 

 I sat down in a little hotel in a cross-roads 

 hamlet. The proprietor, a heavy-featured, 

 course-tongued man, was semi-drunk. He 

 had the appearance of a pugilist who had 



