142 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[March 20, 1884. 



r <h* Mpwtsntmt §£owi$k 



BETWEEN THE LAKES. 

 Seventh Paper. 



ODDS AND ENDS. 



JEKOMEVILLE is a splendid illustration of the adage 

 "There is nothing in a name." To one acquainted with' 

 the region it would suggest at least the beginning of a town 

 with a primitive, cheap and dirty hotel, slab cabins, a nasty 

 "doggery'' and a strong smelling store. But Jeromeville is 

 not even that. It contains but one bouse — a station bouse 

 made of pine boards, in which a section boss and bis family 

 live, and two or three section men are lodged. There is a 

 switch close at hand enabling the trains to pass each other, 

 and a red flag belongs in the house with which certain trains 

 may be flagged and stray fishermen, hunters or lumbermen 

 be taken on board. A mile west of Jeromeville is a recently 

 abandoned lumber camp, Oasop Na 1, and a, half mile east 

 is another— a remotely abandoned one. The time was, and 

 that no longer ago than the past winter, when there was a 

 great show of business at Camp No. 1. Probably sixty man 

 —choppers, sawyers, "coad monkeys," haulers, skidders, 

 cooks, clerks and bosses— made that camp their headquarters 

 while engaged in the work of forest destruction. And there 

 were other destructionists there also. The deer hunters con- 

 gregated there and at one time during the past winter a hun- 

 dred and fifty carcasses of deer were piled up in the camp 

 warehouse. And the slaughter was kept up from early fall 

 till late in the winter, and what was the grand total of butch- 

 ered deer in that neighborhood? I am sure I do not know, 

 but probably not far from a thousand. 



At this rate how long will the game last? Jeromeville is 

 in the midst of the woods. Heudocks, maples, balsams, 

 pines grow skyward all around save in the hundred-foot 

 strip chopped out for the railroad track. Standing in the 

 center of that track in front of Jeromeville, and looking 

 east, one has an unobstructed view of thirty-four miles. 

 The railroad track lies upon the section line that distance as 

 nearly as the engineer could fix it. This entire distance 

 leads* through the Manistique region— the Onominitik of the 

 red men, which means bog iron ore. Much of this mineral, 

 I am told, can be found in this region. The Manistique, 

 risiug in springs from the great Potsdam sandstone ridge, in 

 the north side of which the chaffing waters of Lake Superior 

 have cut those stupendous cliffs known as the Pictured 

 Rocks, flows southeasterly till it crosses the railroad at a 

 point twenty-six miles east of Jeromeville, where it soon 

 strikes the western flanks of the Niagara limestone beds, of 

 which the southeastern part of the Peninsula is built up, and 

 thence it meanders southwesterly along the valley, betweeu 

 the limestone outcropping and the Potsdam sandstones, and 

 finally enters Lake Michigan about seventy -five miles west of 

 the Straits of Macinac. All its northern tributaries have 

 their sources in the same great sandstone ridge, aud al! flow 

 southeasterly or at right angles with the valley between the 

 two rock systems through wmich the main river runs, and 

 all are trout-bearing. The Manistique region lying north 

 and west of the river contains in round numbers about one 

 thousand square miles, most of which is quite level and 

 much of it swampy. 



Vast forests of timber cover the greater part of the Man- 

 istique slope, a great, deal of which is valuable pine timber; 

 but it is so interspersed with bard wood timber and swamps, 

 that fires do not sweep through the woods, blackening 

 and blasting the country, as is the case in the Lower 

 Peninsula. 



From Jeromeville to the Manistique the railroad crosses 

 ten tributaries tfl the Manistique, every one of which, so far 

 as 1 have investigated, is found to be a trout stream. I know 

 that two or three that meander through swampy plains west 

 of Seney do not contain trout near the railroad, but these, as 

 well "as all the other tributaries, flow from the sandstone lying 

 to the north, aud I venture the assertion with the utmost 

 confidence, that every stream rising in the Potsdam foima- 

 tion, will be found at some point along its course, a trout- 

 bearing stream. 



The eastern tributaries of the Manistique running down 

 from the limestone hills, are short and insignificant. Trout 

 will not be found in them. But to Manistique Lakes- 

 North Manistique, Manistique and South Manistique— are 

 reputed to be excellent bass waters. North Manistique is 

 about four miles from McMillan, on the railroad, from 

 which a good wagon road leads to it, and the lakes are con- 

 nected by small streams, so that the voyager may float from 

 one to the other. Or the sportsman can descend the Fox 

 from Seney to the outlet of the lakes, and row up that two 

 miles and enter the largest one of the three. 



It is unfortunate that the tributaries of the Manistique 

 having their source in the highlands between the two lakes 

 should all be designated on the maps as branches— the East 

 branch, the North branch, the Northwest branch, the West 

 branch, and the like. Three of these, the East branch, the 

 Northwest and the West, have local names. The East, on 

 which Seney is located, is known as Fox River. The Indian 

 name was Neenah, and it is a pity that name has not been 

 kept alive. The Northwest branch is locally known as 

 Stuch's Creek, and the West branch is generally known as 

 Indian River, from the fact that upon its banks and along 

 the shores of the quite extensive island lake into which it 

 widens, the Indians in former times had numerous wig 

 warns. 



From time immemorial the Ojibwas inhabited the Upper 

 Peninsula, and a feeble remnant of that once powerful tribe 

 have a foothold there yet. But for some reason they have 

 signally failed to leave the record of their existence as the 

 once lords of the land in the names of its geographical 

 features. The Tcquamenon and Manistique rivers and 

 Munising are about all the names that occur to me now of 

 Indian origin. The only places named are along the shores 

 of the great lakes and along the line of the railroad. Else- 

 where there are no permanent residents, and names are un- 

 known. For the present we must be content with the 

 branches. 



The Fox River abounds in the pike-perch or jack salmon, 

 A revolving spoon is cast into the swift waters and proves to 

 be a killing bait. The headwaters of the Fox and of the 

 Manistique itself are capital trout streams, but of this here- 

 after. Let us return to our camp at Jeromeville. 



The last was an unprecedented*^ wet summer in the woods, 

 which not only aggravated the insect pests, but sadly inter- 

 fered with trout fishing. By reason of the gradual descent 

 of the Manistique slope, its streams remain swollen many 

 days after a heavy rain. A stream affording excellent trout 



fishing one day may not show a rise to a fly for a week after. 

 One day the Greek Professor went to the west branch of the 

 North branch, two and a half miles east of Jeromeville, and 

 caught twenty-five trout— fine ones at that— in three hours 

 Within a day or so a heavy rain fell, and returning soon after 

 he could not get a rise, notwithstanding he painstakingly 

 w ent over the entire ground. 



The summer before the Judge had tried the Southwest 

 branch, or Stuch's Creek, at a point a little west of south 

 from Jeromeville, with such success that he determined to 

 try the same stream again, but at a different place. This 

 stream takes its rise a little south of Munising Station, as we 

 have seen, and runs southeastward ly. From the map it 

 appeared that a tramp two and a half miles due west from 

 camp, the first mile of which was on the rail, would take 

 one to the creek at a point where it turned its course south- 

 ward. The Judge struck for that point, and after crossing 

 a thick woods and then a tamarac swamp, he came to the 

 stream he sought for. It meandered through an ancient 

 beaver meadow, intersected by frequent beaver canals 

 and covered by an almost impenetrable growth of black 

 elders. 



The clay was mild, with a soft breeze from the southwest 

 occasionally coming in gusty puffs and rippling the surface 

 of the pools, while the sky was clear, save wisps of white 

 clouds here and there, hanging apparently motionless in the 

 blue ether. Tying a red handkerchief to the top of one of 

 the tallest alders, to mark the place, the Judge deposited his 

 gun and lunch at its roots, and jointing his rod and tying on 

 a brown hackle— his favorite fly — he quietly parted the alders 

 and dropped the lure lightly on the stream." Floating swiftly 

 down to a bunch' of grass and dead twigs clinging to a 

 depending alder branch, there came a splash and a tug, and 

 presently a beautiful trout lay gasping on the bank. During 

 the three ensuing hours the fisherman knew nothing — 

 thought of nothing— save the trout that gave little rest to his 

 hooks. No one had ever been there before him. Not a tuft 

 of trodden grass save by deer hoofs was to be seen, and not 

 an alder had been broken bj man. He was fishing on primi- 

 tive ground, and in virgin waters, and so absorbed did he 

 become as he slowly pursued his way up stream, casting 

 here and casting there, and in quick succession lifting from 

 the pools their gamy denizens, that, when a very red doe 

 came from out the thicket to slake its thirst and crop the 

 tender glass, the Judge was all unconscious of its presence, 

 till he heard its repeated stamps of defiance less than twenty 

 yards away. Less than three hundred yards he fished along 

 the Stuch that day, and when he found his load was made 

 up, he counted thirty-five trout, twenty-five of which weighed 

 from eight to fifteen ounces each. When the afternon train 

 passed Jeromeville for Marquette, the red flag was hung over 

 the track, and when the train was brought to a stand, the. 

 twenty-five trout were consigned to the care of the conductor 

 with instructions to hand them over to Mr. Frank Milligan, 

 an officer of the road, who never failed lo show T us a favor 

 when opportunity presented. 



That sight there came a tempest of rain, and a few days 

 thereafter the Judge with his daughter set forth on a visit to 

 Stuch's Creek at still another point. Within the past year 

 a wagon road had been cut through from the railroad at 

 Camp No. 1, one mile west of Jeromeville, south to the town 

 of Manistique, at the mouth of the river by that name, and 

 five miles from the railroad it crossed Stuch's Creek. Rumor 

 said trout were to be taken there of large size; but when the 

 two reached the long bridge crossing the stream and low 

 ground on either side, they found the waters so swollen from 

 the recent rain that it was with difficulty that the banks of 

 the stream could be reached and never a trout raised to fly or 

 took a bait. 



Some distance below the bridge the land-lookers say there 

 are some ancient beaver dams and much deep water. In this 

 water, trout may be caught which kick the beam at two and 

 a half and three pounds, so the said land-lookers say. No one 

 has ever voyaged down the Northwest branch however, that 

 remains a thing for a couple of patient, plucky anglers to 

 accomplish. This the Judge expected to attempt when in 

 the country the past summer, but the sickness at home de- 

 ranged his plans and he had to abandon it. 



A branch of the West branch runs within a stone's throw 

 of Jeromeville, and a mile above the railroad it gives excellent 

 fishing. We went up stream one day and found it open and 

 comparatively free from brush. Below the bridge the fish- 

 ing is not so good because of the brush, but even there 1 

 caught a nice basket of trout one day. 



From the abandoned lumber camp half a mile, east of 

 Jeromeville an old "tote" road runs soutn half a mile, where 

 it crosses the Jeromeville branch, and at that point there is 

 said to be excellent trout fishing. A glance at the map dis- 

 closed to us that if we would go half a mile east of Jerome- 

 ville and, leaving the railroad, travel through the woods two 

 and a half miles north, then go half a mile east again, we 

 would strike the west branch of the North branch, where we 

 had no doubt trout fishing would be found to be first-rate. 

 The railroad crosses this west branch of the North branch 

 two and a half miles east of Jeromeville, and we know from 

 actual experiment that the stream here contains many and 

 fine trout. Pounders are not infrequently taken. Half a 

 mile further on the North branch is crossed, and here, too, 

 the trout fisherman will find his pleasure. And so, it is to 

 be seen that Jeromeville is a trout center. 



Our camping days at this place passed all too swiftly by. 

 With a little hunting and a good deal of fishing, we soon 

 found that the time of our stay in the woods was neariug its 

 elose. Our tent stood in the edge of a grove of beeches and 

 maples and hemlocks, whose drooping branches were cov- 

 ered with a mantle of green. High overhead a gigantic 

 white piue held out its short arms aud whispered to us sweet 

 lullaby s in the night breezes. Near its base we built our 

 camp-fire, and around that we loved to gather of evenings 

 and watch the wavering flames and clouds of sparkles that 

 soared into the green foliage and to recount the incidents of 

 each day. 



But let us linger here no longer. The time has come for 

 us to break camp and go home. The Greek Professor has 

 forgotten that he ever had a "lump" in his throat, and my 

 • "dizziness" is a thing of the past. It is time we return to the 

 busy work-a-day world. 



******* 



Since the Forest and Stueam began the publication of 

 the "Between the Lakes" papers, I dropped in one evening to 

 have a friendly chat with the Greek Professor. ( >n the table 

 before him was open paper. He had been reading of his 

 exploits in the woods, and his brows were knit. In one cor- 

 ner of his room stood a brand new breech loading rifle of ap- 

 proved pattern. Over his head, Bryant looked beniguantly 

 down, and from the further side Longfellow smiled com 



placently. The Quaker poet was not there. The Greek 

 Professor was evidently in a warlike mood. "Don't you re- 

 member," said he. "the day you stuck fast in the bog, and I 

 had to fish you out?" 



"Well," said I, "I do have a slight recollection of some- 

 thing happening at some time to somebody something like 

 that," and in turn I knitted my brows. 



"Well, why didn't you tell that?" he asked me. 



"I forgot it," I boldly said. 



"I have it, and what is more, I am going to write to the 

 editor about it myself." 



"Do!" said I; "and don't forget to tell him about the ex- 

 periment you and Oscar made with our half pint of whisky 

 and the birch sap." 



And then he nibbed his hands and laughed genially. 



But he is going to write to the editor, nevertheless. He 

 is bound to have his say, and I am glad of it. 



D. D. Bani-a." 



b(i 



ROPING THE BLACK-TAILS. 



WE'LL drive in all the horses we can find on the range 

 to-day, boys," remarked Mr. French, or. as he is 

 usually known, "Pete," one of the most popular cattle men 

 in Oregon. He whistled to the hounds, and, followed by us 

 boys, headed towaid the long, gradual rise forming the north 

 end of the Stein Mountain range. 



From the starting point on the flat to the summit is fifteen 

 miles. For the first half of the distance the ground is cov- 

 ered with low sage brush and bunch grass, aud dotted with 

 juniper trees. But the latter half, over which a few inches 

 of snow lay, is without sage brush, while there are dense 

 thickets in every little hollow on the hillsides, here and there 

 a patch of small quaking asps, and along the banks of the 

 numerous creeks a scattering of eottonwoods. 



There are sufficient rocks and stones scattered about to 

 render riding a little dangerous, and the sides of the canons 

 are steep enough to assure one at a glance that, once fairly 

 started down the incline, there was no chance of stopping 

 till the bottom wasn-eaehed. No place I have seen seems so 

 natural a deer park, and, judging from the number to 

 be seen at all times, the deer are evidently of the same 

 opinion. 



We were all well mounted, each had his redta or lasso, and 

 •displayed the usual number of colors that a collection of 

 cowboys or taqueros. Spanish and American, always can 

 boast of, which is every shade. The long wool Angora 

 c/utperos or leggings, and the elaborately-stamped heavy 

 Mexican saddles, the stirrups covered with leather tapaderos, 

 long and pointed, almost touching the ground, increased our 

 sornewhat picturesque appearance. 



Two fine Scotch stags, three or four greyhounds, and as 

 many more a cross between the two, scampered round us on 

 all sides as we rode up a slight hollow. 



A sharp bark, followed by a one-line chorus, and Pete' s 

 "There he goes" was answered by a volley of "Cka-en/has" 

 and a free use of spurs. The deer was off to the right, out 

 of view for the first few jumps, but a gentle rise soon 

 brought in sight a splendid pair of antlers, and another 

 shout burst from everyone. He wavered an instant and 

 turned toward the hollow we had just left, thus shortening 

 by almost a half the little intervening distance. Four bounds 

 into the hollow, aud he was in view of all. Three hounds 

 were together, almost within springing distance, and Pete, 

 close on them, was swinging his rope and shouting "reata," 

 followed by us. The yelps of the dogs as they got out of 

 the way of" the horses, which, all alive to the sport, needed 

 no spurring to do their best; the whir-r of the rawhide 

 lassoes which every man swung, all eager for an opportu- 

 nity to throw them, altogether made up a scene to make the 

 most sober excited, and cause his blood to tingle for many 

 a minute after. Two more springs and he would be among 

 the sage brush and rocks. The dogs seemed to know it. 

 They sprang together, and as they brought him to the 

 ground three loops dropped over his horns, and a loud 

 hurrah rang through the clear frosty air. 



It was hardly ten minutes after we had swung our buck 

 over a juniper limb, that a pair of long ears were outlined 

 against'the sky, then another, and another, not two hundred 

 yards away. The dogs were soon in full cry, and away the 

 deer started at a gentle trot, thirteen head followed by two 

 fine bucks. 



It was a pretty stretch of level country for half a mile, aud 

 they were making straight across it to a canon Scarcely a 

 minute elapsed before the houuds were within a few yards 

 of them, and we were following ciosely. Again the shouts 

 of "reata" was echoed on all sides, as the boys formed and 

 swung open the loops of their trusty ropes. 



"We'll lose them if they reach the canon," said Pete, and 

 he shot ahead of us, but only for a few seconds, as he stopped 

 his horse with a jerk, and just in time. There was a "jump- 

 off" of quite a height, and down the deer all went, Bluey, 

 one of the crosses, fastening to the last, a yearling buck, am I 

 together they rolled into a dense tangle of small brush. Half 

 of us scrambled down, for "where a dog can go a bur:, can, " 

 is nearly true of the cow ponies of the West. Not a sign 

 could we see, when not thirty feet from us, the two bucks 

 cleared a clump of willows, and crashed their way through 

 the dead brush aud rocks, clown the canon. Pursuit was 

 almost impossible, but away went the pups and a couple of 

 Spaniards. 



"There are more yet; surround that thicket and look 

 sharp, boys. We'll have them yet," said Pete excitedly. 

 Hardly had he spoken when six jumped up, and over a 



i l !-._ !_-£?* -...^..,1,./-1 .-,,,. 1 n,i.n,r (, Sifuvr with rlmm 



lay" and "reata" re-echoed from the rim rocks, as if there 

 were five score voices. I could see but a dozen yards up a 

 small trail leading out of the brush, but heard barks close at 

 band. My reata was ready, when, like a streak of light, a 

 fawn came in sight, sprang aside at seeing me, and rolled 

 over with Bluey firmlv attached again, while following came 

 a boy so close as almost to take part in the tumble. It was a 

 doe, and more frightened than hurt, so driving off the dogs 

 and calling her "poor, little girl," and other endearing terms, 

 we cut au ""under hit out of the left" (Pete's well-known ear 

 mark) and let her go. 



There were several other dashes 'cross country, and not 

 after horsesl We did come across two of the latter by acci- 

 dent toward the end of the day, and drove them before us, 

 the result of our horse hunt. 



"Strange we saw so few," said Pete at supper. "We saw 

 a few deer, though, sir," remarked a vaquero. "Yes, and 

 as nearly as I can judge fully three hundred." And he did 

 not overstate the number. Gov'xor. 



Stein Mottntain, Oregon. 



