me would have cost nothing, but I wanted her where she 
Was. . 
l extract a few lines from the log for August: ‘‘Picked 
up the Nipper at J. Smith’s and spent the last days of the 
month in taking notes of fish, fishing, fish traps and their 
effect on the game fish of the Susquehanna, They (the 
traps) are humerous enough and bad enough. Brought the 
Nipper home, racked and leaky,” : 
On the 10th of September, having tightened copper nails 
and reyarnished the canoe, took her down to Jersey Mills 
for a final cruise. Noted several additions to the fish traps 
and wing dams, for itis the season when a rise in the river 
will start the eels down stream, and the chance of a bushel 
of eels in a single night is not to be missed by the ayerage 
fish hog. Ostensibly I was fishing and cruising; practically 
Iwas hawkeyeing for fish traps and poachers. They were 
not far to seck or hard to find. I came home discouraged, 
and with little faith in fish or game laws; or, rather, their 
enforcement. J decided, however, to make a last trip down 
Stream early in October, take accurate note of fish traps and 
their locations, and notify the proper officers thereof. 
On the 7th of October, haying laid the canoes away for 
the season, I started for Williamsport by rail, keeping a 
sharp eye on the stream from a car window. Now, there 
are seyeral places where the river is not in sight from the 
cars, and I only noted what I saw and could testify to ac- 
cordingly. 
Between Ansonia and the southern line of Tioga county I 
eounted seven dams and traps, a distance of about eighteen 
miles, Four of them sre marked “bad,” ‘Bad’ means that 
the trap cuts off the entire river from bank to bank. No 
fish four inches jong can run up, and all that attempt to run 
down must fall into the trap. 
In Lycoming county and all above the mouth of the Tia- 
datton, I note five fish traps, three of them ‘‘bad,” and three 
miles below Williamsport, right under the noses of the sports- 
mans elub, there is a fish dam built in the shape of a W, the 
lower angies pointing dowu stream, and teft open for a 
couple of fykes, or worse still, wooden weirs or baskets. 
This is the worst trap I have seen, No fish can get up, and 
all that attempt to descend are as good as dead. For these 
traps are made so infernally destructive that all small fish 
are inevitably destroyed. lf they were caught in such a 
manner that the eels could be saved and the small fry of all 
game fish could be returned alive tothe water, it would not 
beso bad. But, if desired, I can put the proper officers on 
the track of a man who fed five bushels of young bass to his 
hogs in less than one week, or, as it was put to me, “‘at one 
run.” ‘This was near Jersey Mills, Lycoming county. And 
there was about a barrel of large bass which were salted 
down or ‘divided round.” A reliable man told me that the 
bulk of the salted bass spoiled, and were also fed to the hogs, 
Now, what happened to this man’s trap at one run hap- 
pened just the same to numerous other traps, Is it any 
wonder that there is complaint of the bass fishing not being 
nearly as good in the Susquehanna as it was two years ago? 
And is there no remedy? Are we such infernal cowards as 
to stock our finest streams with the best game fish at public 
cost, for the equal benefit of all, and then Jet the fish-hog 
destroy # thousand of our young bass and trout that his 
sovereign dirtiness may get away with a dozen eels? 
“A plague of all cowards. There’s lime in this sack, too; 
Yet a coward is worse than 4 cup of sack with lime in it.” 
—Falstaf,~ 
I notified members of the Sportsman’s Club at Williams- 
port of the fish traps and their particular location, and ex- 
plained my position in the matter, ¢.¢., that of a private 
citizen, anxious only for fair play and the enforcement of 
Jaws framed for the equal benefit of all. I thought they did 
not seem particularly enthusiastic. One member gave me a 
hint not ‘‘to play stool pigeon for a cat.” Another member 
spoke of getting evidence concerning the ownership of the fish 
dam below Williamsport by hiring a ‘‘sharp river man to do the 
dirty work,” So the detective who risks person and prop- 
erty in the effort to bring these selfish, lawless poachers to 
justice is doing ‘‘dirty work,” and the poachers are, by im- 
plication, doing the clean thing. Well, so far as the bass are 
concerned, perhaps they are. It is pretty clear that, if Jeft 
to their own devices, they will make a clean thing of all 
game fish In Pennsylvania. 
I derived some satisfaction for the time and money ex- 
pended on the trip, The owners of several fish traps hear- 
ing that they were being reported, took out all vestige of 
their traps. And on the day of my arrival in Williamsport 
4 party was fined $125 and costs for seining in the river. I 
reported seven fish traps with their locations to the fish 
wardens of this (Tioga) county, who coolly refused to stir in 
the matter, stupidly asking im his ignorance, ‘“Who’s goin’ 
fer pay me fer my time and expenses?” 
There is something in this matter of pay. Fish wardens 
and game constables are not’ wealthy men asarule. Per- 
haps they can hardly be expected to make advances of time 
and money, with the risk of making dangerous enemies on 
the chance of getting halt a fine that very likely will never 
be collected. ‘his State could well afford to pay a corps of 
such officers, say $300 per annum, with $150 additional for 
expenses, added to one-half the fines as at present. Goad 
and efficient men could be secured in any desirable numbers 
for snch pay, small as it may seem. And the taxpayers of 
the State would never feel it. Then let the law be so framed 
that any officer who refuses to act promptly on proper in- 
formation shall be fined heayily, and also forfeit his place, 
We want short, sharp, plain laws, and efficient officers to 
enforce them without fear or favor. 
A word io fair-minded sportsmen, If fish and game laws 
are eyer to be effective, the man who zealously and fearlessly 
Strives to enforce them must be upheld and honored, while 
the onus of ‘dirty work” is placed where it belongs, on the 
‘selfish poacher who is capable of destroying a barrel of young 
game fish that_he may saye a string of eels to his own por- 
‘cine cheek. Honor the laws and those who enforce them. 
* <2 + = % * <.y 
T have already said what I think of the northern region of 
Pennsylvania as to health and outing inducements. I will 
add, that to people suffering from asthmatic difticulties, a 
camp life for two or three months on the broad, dry summits 
of our mountains is almost a certain cure in ordinary cases, 
and in all diseases of the respiratory organs it will be found 
most salutory. But the fishing and hunting is always poor 
in such localities, and the life is monotonous to a degree, 
The alleyiations are, the best of spring’ water, the purest air, 
fine scenery, and good botanizing, for those who affect bot. 
any, The entymologist also will find plenty to interest him; 
but the angler will be badly out, although in most cases he 
may take a fair creel of small trout by walking from six to 
eight miles over a rough, steep mountain trail, The expense 
ghia, li >) i 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
may be made a trifling matter. I find my expenses while 
camping out the past summer were never more than $3 per 
week, and I did not stint myself in the least. Of course, if 
one must hire a guide or a man-of-all-work about camp, the 
expense is quadrupled. But this is seldom necessary, even 
for a stranger. 
* ca * * * 
My outing is over. The canoes hang idly in their slings; 
my beautiful summer is past. 
Thavea sad, October-like presentiment that it may be my 
last, But anyhow, here’s the hand of an old canoeist to all 
FOREST AND STREAM readers who have followed the very 
simple annals of the Bucktail’s log. NESSMUK. 
ay * 
A VOYAGE BETWEEN THE LAKES. 
BY D. D, BANTA,. 
iit. 
Gonzalo—* * * whether this be 
Or be not, Pll not swear. 
es Judge and Brother Scott were up with the sun and 
made an early start the next morning. As the Wawa 
left her moorings the tinkle of a cow bell and the bark of a 
Seney dog reminded them how short the distance between 
their recent camping ground and that town; and lest cow or 
dog might take it in head to run down and charge for bell 
or bark, the little boat was at once pushed into the middle of 
the stream, when it began that smooth, gliding descent so 
dear to the heart of the fluviatile navigator. 
The limp and dripping boughs of the night before glis- 
tened in the morning sun with limpid drops of dew, and 
over the river grasses, so lately drooping beneath showers of 
rain, lacelike fringes of dainty frostwork appeared. The 
morning air, clear, crisp and still, was no less suggestive of 
approaching autumn than were the first dashes of yellow, 
Tusset and red to be seen among the maple leaves. 
A shori run carried our boatmen out of the forest shadows 
to a marshland, where there was a low, leyel meadow 
stretching to the right and a bushy thicket onthe left. Be- 
tween a fringe of alders the little river merrily passed its way 
in a comparatively straight channel for a couple of miles or 
more (at least, so it seemed to them at the time), and all along 
were to be seen past and present evidences of the busy beaver. 
Beyond the marshland recurred the alluvial bottoms, with 
their trees peculiar to damp soils. Swamp maples, elms and 
ashes grew in great luxuriance, and the maples and elms 
were remarkable for their branching tops. One of the 
former claimed the travelers’ special attention. It was not 
less than forty inches in diameter at the stump, but at six 
feet above ground it divided into half a dozen branches, and 
there in turn divided again, and so on to the furthest tips, 
the whole making a symmetrical and grandly-overtopping 
tree. 
Three hours through these forests our yoyagers held their 
way oyer waters that raced toward every point of the com- 
pass. No sign of » an’s habitation was seen, but the cleared 
tiver showed man’s domain, and the barked and bruised 
trunks of trees growing at the margin testified to the 
rolling, jamming and bumping of logs on their way down 
stréam. 
Presently they came to a signboard nailed to a tree at one 
side of the stream, bearing the legend in charcoal, ‘‘Black- 
bird City.” A narrow point of high ground jutted out to 
the river at this place, and, landing the boat, the travelers de- 
barked, and finding a path, followed it out and up to a regu- 
lar camping ground of the river drivers, Three crows, feed- 
ing on the garbage left by the last campers, lazily flapped 
their wings, and, with spiteful caws, flew into a neighboring 
thicket as the visitors approached, 
Leaving Blackbird City to its only tenants, the ‘‘three 
black crows,” the voyage was resumed, and the hoof prints 
of deer along the margin, which had been seen occasionally 
all-morning, became more and more numerous as they 
descended. Not having seen a deer during the morning, it 
was wisely determined that perhaps there had been too much 
talking. The constant shifting of scenes claiming attention 
because of their novelty and beauty, had kept up a running 
conversation all the morning between the travelers, And 
then they had occasionally anchored for the Judge to cast a 
spoon into the swift water for the pike-perch that he did not 
catch. Formerly, it is said, the Fox abounded in this fish, 
and they occasionally are taken in it yet; but no fish can 
long withstand the miles upon miles of floating logs that 
annually go down this stream. Even the deer sometimes 
become entangled among the logs and are done to death. 
Four skeletens lying by the river's side, the travelers saw 
that morning—skeletons of deer that had perished among 
the logs; but whatever may have happened to the pike-perch, 
not one of them tried the Judge’s spoon on that journey. 
The appearance of the country through which the river 
ran now underwent a great change. The low level lands, 
covered with swamp-growing timber, gave place to higher 
and more diversified ground, from which grew hemlocks 
and hard maples. The river became more sinuous, if possi- 
ble, and the trees on the shore as the boat glided along, 
“Seemed rushing a contrary way.”’ 
As they slid around a sharp bend, behind a brush veil on 
the bank was seen the dim outline of a deer. It was barely 
a glimpse they got of it, aud before they could slow the 
Wawa down to a dead halt, mufiled hoof beats told the story 
of the animal’s flight into the woods. 
This was the second wild deer ever seen by Brother Scott, 
and the sight of it aroused the hunter instinct in him, If he 
had only seen it in time he certainly could lave shot it, was 
the substance of the observation he made, and, as if to sat- 
isty himself of the truth of his observation, he leveled his 
rifle at divers stumps and logs and trees, and took deadly 
aim at them as the boat floated by. And after every bead 
drawn, he would nod his head complacently, evidently being 
satisfied in his own mind that he had not been mistaken in 
his observation, and that if another deer exposed itself, he 
would unquestionably killit. But after 2 long and not over 
satisfactorily bead taken at a knot on a maple, he suddenly 
asked the Judge: ‘Had 1 better shoot at the head?” 
“No. Aim at the body.” 
And then Brother Scott aimed at a stump about the size 
of a deer, and as he let the un down into his arms, a con- 
fident smile overspread his countenance. 
time he had smiled in two days, and the Judge, who had 
noticed his dolorous cendition, rejoiced at the change. 
And just then a turn of the boat brought a deer jn sight. 
—Tenupest, 
It was a beautiful three-pronged buck, wearing a deep red- 
coat, and standing as he was, on an open space on the bank, 
he saw the hunters as soon as they saw him. With head 
erect and thin black nostrils dilating in the effort to catch a 
Tt was the first | 
scent of the descending craft, he presented a splendid mark 
for the sportsman. Brother Scott’s gun went to his shoulder 
at the yery instant he saw the buck, and in a moment there 
was aroar, a smoke cloud and a fleeing deer. As the last 
glimpse of its white tail disappeared in the brush, Brother 
; Scott, ina disappointed tone, exclaimed, “I think I missed 
it?” 
Yes, I think so, too,” said the Judge; ‘‘at least, you 
missed the one I saw on the gound.” 
pane was the one I shot at,” said Brother Scott, with em- 
phasis. 
“Was it?” innocently asked the Judge, and there the con- 
versation ended, Brother Scott had missed the deer he had 
been so sure of killing. He could not remember whether 
he had seen the sights on bis gun or not, Indeed, while he 
knew he had fired his gun at a deer, yet he had a feeling of 
uncertainty about it in spite of bis knowledge; but that feel- 
Ing was only momentary. It was evident he had fired his 
gun—he could feel that, now—but it was also equally evi- 
dent that he had missed, and his confidence left him. He 
could never be sure of anything again in this world. ‘‘All 
ig vanity.” 
On the spot where the deer stood that Brother Scott 
thought he shot at, our travelers prepared and ate their 
noonday meal, and enjoyed their rest. Resuming their voy- 
age, they soon came to a last winter’s lumbermen’s camp, 
where they landed, and, peeping into the eating and sleeping 
apartments, their nostrils were assailed in each with such a 
multitudinous and contradictory array of nasty smells that 
they beat a hasty retreat and took to the water again. 
Within ten minutes they floated out into the Manistique, 
where they found a deeper, wider, but more sluggish stream 
than was the Fox, 
On entering the Manistique, our boatmen turned the Wa- 
wa’s prow up stream and paddled a few hundred yards, and 
then turning about they dropped slowly back to the mouth 
of the Fox again, and im a little bay at one side let their 
boat float on the still waters, The scene presented was very 
beautiful. The afternoon sun shed a warm and mellow 
light on all around, and not a sound disturbed the drowsy 
stillness save an occasional discordant chatter of a sleepy 
kingfisher. The Judge tried for a pike-perch and got his 
hook fast to a submerged limb for thé tenth time. Brother 
Scott looked at the still water and then at the green trees, 
after which he ran his eyes over the blue sky and then said: 
“How far do you suppose it is to Séeney?” 
The Judge having unloosed his hook by this time and put 
it away, with a malediction on both hook and fish, unfolded 
the map, and both questioned and questioner were amazed 
to find that by surveyor’s chain they were not over seyen 
miles from Seney. It seemed to them that they must have 
traveled twenty-five or thirty miles at the least, but it is 
quite common for river voyagers to overrate distances trav- 
eled on strange streams, From Seney to the mouth of the 
Fox is twelve or fourteen miley probably by the thread of 
the stream. From the mouth of the Fox down to Lake 
Michigan in a straight line is thirty miles, but it is an amaz- 
ingly crooked stream, and the canoeman would think it sev- 
enty-five no doubt before he got through, The river drivers, 
indeed, said it was 120, an estimate presumably wide of the 
mark, Both the Fox and the Manistique, are very winding, 
however, and run through the wilderness from Seney down 
to the lake, a distance great enough to afford a delightful 
canoe excursion. 
The Judge suggesting this to his trayeling companion, the 
latter remarked upon the absence of the historical element 
in the country. ‘We hear no stories of adventure,” said he; 
“no comedies, no tragedies, no traditions, no legends, no 
romances. That which lends the greatest charm to travel in 
the Old World and in the older parts of the New is here 
wanting. Every English brook, every Scotch lake, every 
Irish bog has its historical side, which to the ideal traveler 
is after all its most attractive side. To my mind this wil- 
derness travel is far less interesting than travel through lands 
where men have been living for generations. It adds vastly, 
to my way of thinking, to a country I go through for me to 
know that men are and haye been living init. I may not 
know a page of its history, may never have heard one of its 
traditions, but I know it does have a history. I know it 
has its heroes and its hero worshippers. I know its men 
have lived and suffered, have at one time or another gone 
down in defeat to come up again in victory, and this knowl- 
edge is enough to cast.a halo over it all. My imagination 
can fill allthe rest. What haye we here?” 
“All that you so much dote on and more besides,” replied 
the Judge. with some warmth. ‘You talk about your older 
settled parts of our country, and yet, long before the settle- 
ments were made you refer to, this region was occupied by 
a liberty-loving, warlike people, Before the Cavaliers peo-, 
pled Virginia or the Roundheads New England, the Ojibwas 
held possession here, lived here, struggled here, suffered 
defeats here and gained victories here; was there no romance, 
tradition, history connected with them? Why, it was only a 
short time ago that I met old Nungo, an old, blind descend- 
ant of the once lords of this region, who told me many of 
the traditions handed down by the old men of the tribe. 
This very Manistique River had a place in their traditions. 
It was the Indian’s highway, and along its crooked course a 
great fleet of canoes filled with Potawatamies and Illinois 
from the southern end of Lake Michigan pressed forward to 
make war on the Ojibwas encamped at the Sauk Rapids. 
Crossing the narrow portage belween the river and the 
Tequamenon, the river on which Longfellow located the 
Puk-wud-jies, his little people, they crossed over and de- 
scended that stream. Knowing nothing of that river, and 
haying no guides, all unconscious of danger, the entire fleet 
was run into the river rapids and carried to destruction over 
the Tequamenon Falls; and the first knowledge the Ojibwas 
had of the approach of their enemies was when the young 
men of their tribe found their dead bodies and upturned 
canoes floating in the lower Tequamenon. Think of that, 
will you? These very Potawatamies and Illinois passed 
right along here and may have encamped on that very high 
bank before us. From time immemorial the red men floated 
their bark canoes up and down this stream, and their camp- 
fires have been kindled on all the commanding’ sites on its 
banks. Was there not wooing of maidens, pursuit of game 
by hunters, and going to battle of warriors? Had they not 
their 
* * * ‘egends and traditions, 
With the odors of the forest, 
With the dew and damp of meadows, 
With the curling smoke of wigwams, 
With the rushing of great rivers? 
Now add to this hoary past the wilderness of the present, 
with its pleasant water courses, its green and feathery-topped 
trees, the shade, the sunshine, the wild deer, the silence, and 
