122 



THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



Photograph by George Shiras, jd 



A RACCOON ElRES THE ELASHLIGHT 



Twenty-five years ago this omnivorous animal was unknown on Lake Superior, but on 

 the coming of the second growth clearings and farming settlements it has taken up a perma- 

 nent abode. (See "A Flashlight Story of an Albino Porcupine and of a Cunning but Un- 

 fortunate Coon," June, 191 1, NaT. Geog. Mag.) 



aged to roll over the recumbent figures, 

 shouting, "Bears ! Bears !" until the 

 closed end of the tent prevented further 

 progress. Then there was a jumble of 

 outcries and an effort made to occupy the 

 same place in the rear, followed by the 

 rapid firing of a revolver toward the 

 opening by one of the party, who de- 

 clared in excited tones that the prohibited 

 weapon had been brought along for just 

 such an occasion, for he knew we were 

 in a country filled with dangerous ani- 

 mals. 



Under the protection of this weapon, 

 the fire was replenished, and then at the 

 edge of the swamp appeared the glowing 

 eyes of wild creatures held at bay by the 

 blazing logs, for the flittering fireflies 

 above the moist ground were sufficiently 

 realistic at this juncture to deceive all. 



At daybreak the camp was abandoned, 

 but not before large tracks were noted on 

 the sandy beach. When each appeared 



at his respective home before any one 

 had arisen, it was discouraging to be told 

 that our visitor was, of course, only a 

 stray Indian dog. 



the; world's largest charcoal furnace 



As showing how this particular camp- 

 ing place changed, it may be noted that 

 the largest charcoal furnace in the world 

 is now in operation on one side of the 

 river, which is spanned by a steel bridge, 

 and just beyond is the largest concrete 

 ore dock on the Great Lakes, where 

 leviathan freighters six or seven hundred 

 feet long have replaced the birch-bark 

 canoe. A shore driveway, with its multi- 

 tude of automobiles, occupies the sand 

 beach which once registered the tracks of 

 many wild animals — and others not quite 

 so wild, but equally fond of rare steak. 



Early in August one of my youthful 

 companions of the previous camp learned 

 that two miles south of the town and 



