4 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Jan. 29, 1885. 



old spot, but how changed by the lapse of a few years. 

 When I last looked upon it. it was as silent and unten 

 anted as if never trodden by the foot of man, and now it is 

 a settlement ! 



As we paused to lock the wheels preparatory to making 

 the descent, I mused upon the change. And yet the bustling 

 activity of the scene was no surprise. Here at our feet in 

 this valley was going on just what is now taking place all 

 over the West, only it was a little more concentrated. If 

 from some lofty station in the sky one could obtain a bird's 

 eye view of the vast area between the Missouri River and 

 the Pacific Ocean he would see, but on a vastly grander scale, 

 and spread out over a territory measured by miles where this 

 contains inches, just such scenes as were taking place before 

 me here. I was looking down upon a mimic West. From 

 the British line south to the Mexican boundary, and from 

 the great, river west to the ocean, wherever there is wood, 

 water and grass, there the settler, earnest, industrious and 

 much enduring, has pressed in and erected his little cabin, 

 has broken up his bit of prairie, planted his crop, turned out 

 his few head of stock, and made for himself a home in the 

 wilderness. 



The descent of the very steep hill was soon made, and a 

 few minutes later, after crossing the Firehole River, we 

 drew up before Marshall's hotel. As the stage turned toward 

 the building, the first thing I saw and the pleasantest, was 

 the countenance of my friend Mr. Hague, who welcomed 

 me cordially to the Basin. His camp was about three-quar- 

 ters of a mile northwest of the hotel, and a pack mule with 

 two or three horses standing tied to a tree near at hand gave 

 me to understand that we were to move to his camp at once. 

 A beautiful little, pinto horse, white with pale roan spots, 

 was pointed out to me as my mount. He was a well built 

 little beast, and I congratulated myself on having so good 

 an animal, although his roached mane and his general aspect 

 led me to think that he was a horse with a decided will of 

 his own, and that in case of any important difference of 

 opinion between himself and his rider, he might reply to all 

 arguments by bucking so vigorously that there would be no 

 opportunity forreply. 



A few moments' brisk gallop brought us to the camp, 

 which was charmingly placed among a grove of pines at the 

 foot of a little volcanic cone, just back from the river. 

 Before it was a broad meadow full of hot springs, one of 

 which furnished a convenient lavatory. Its warmth was 

 grateful, for the air was chill. I here met the other mem- 

 bers of the party, whose ready courtesy made me at once 

 feel at home and like a regularly installed member of the 

 parly. After dinner it was pleasant to sit about the camp- 

 fire and gather from their conversation something of the life 

 and methods of thought of those who were to be my com- 

 panions for the next few weeks. Most of the gentlemen 

 were men of long experience in the West, and none of them 

 had spent less than two seasons in the field. There was, 

 therefore, much that was instructive in what I heard, and 

 it was late when the party broke up and retired to their 



blankets. 



[to be continued.] 



CAMP FLOTSAM. 



XII. — "a spell o' weatheb." 



WHEN we awoke we had drifted well into the morning. 

 The sound of the steadily falling rain admonished us 

 that we were better off in bed than out of doors ; so we 

 turned on the bunk and tried to sleep on. In drowsy indo- 

 lence we listened to the patter on the roof and journeyed 

 back through the years, until our semi-slumber was mingled 

 with that of boyhood's healthy breathings, lying on the 

 newly cut clover mowed high away under the rafters of the 

 barn on the farm, and listening to the same music; back to 

 roguish, boyish days, wheu. stretched on the garret floor of 

 the old farm house, half fearful of the great chimneys, we 

 pored over Crusoe and Aladdin, with the same patter, patter, 

 drip, drip, sounding in our ears. Alas for him who is 

 never thus summoned to meet his youth, to whom there 

 never comes from that far off play-ground the olden yearn- 

 ings and enthusiasms, though it be but to gaze on fallen idols 

 and to read through tears the inscriptions on gray old stones, 

 overgrown with the mosses of thirty years. 



When we arose the soggy canvas was heavily swaying 

 overhead, and everything without was in a swish and swirl 

 of water. The site of the camp-fire was an island in the 

 midst of a sea, on the nether shore of which, under the 

 table, our chickens were gathered in a forlorn and be- 

 draggled state, apparently apprehensive of the pot pie to 

 which a continuance of the storm would consign one or 

 more. 



In a few minutes the pipe of the camp stove was project- 

 ing from the lee end of the tent; that useful appendage was 

 in .place* and upon it the coffee was boiling and the potatoes 

 and bacon frying. Breakfast was had in the tent, and that 

 over, out came the rubber coats and blankets, rods were 

 jointed, the boat bailed out, and we set out to see what sport 

 might be had on the lake. The fog was drifting along the 

 barren hillsides, the water was whirling and beating itself 

 into foam on the rocks, and the cold rain was driving on us 

 as wo put off from shore. Turning to the northward, we 

 rounded the lower end of the island, passed over an open 

 sheet of water for half a mile, and worked our way between 

 two small islands into a little bay, where we found shelter 

 under the lee of one of the larger islands. Here, just off a 

 rocky point, we cast anchor and baited up. It was one of 

 our favorite days, so far as the weather went, and the place 

 looked fishy. With the low, rocky headland overgrown with 

 stunted shrubs, it seemed the counterpart of another fishing 

 place on a mountain lake, on the shore of which, with a 

 youn°- Cuban for a companion, we had one summer builded 



our camp. On a morning like this we had pulled two miles 

 up the lake to try the fishing off the point, so like the. one 

 before us. As we approached the place we saw a solitary 

 figure sitting upon a rock at the very edge of the water, with 

 his arms crossed upon his knees and his forehead resting 

 upon his arms, heedless of the rain which was pouring upon 

 him. Aswe came to anchor, some twenty feet away, the 

 figure raised its head, took one quick glance at us, and 

 dropped into its first position. It was a young mountaineer, 

 about fifteen or sixteen years of age. with bushy, unkempt 

 hair, a freckled face and buttermilk eyes. But what was he 

 doing here alone and in the storm? Not fishing certainly; 

 perhaps he had been injured or was sick, so we inquired. 



"What's the matter, my boy?" 



He did not raise his head, and the answer came in a smoth- 

 ered sort of way from the region of the diaphragm, a muffled, 

 subdued — 



"Nawthin." 



"What are jam doing here?" 



"Nawthin." 



"Is this a good fishing place?" 



' 'Naw. " 



"Did you ever fish here?" 



"Naw." 



During the cross-examination we had cast out, and at this 

 point it was interrupted by the leap and splash of a bass 

 which had taken Juan's frog and was making things quite 

 lively for that individual, who was sitting in the stern. For 

 the first time the native appeared to take an interest in our 

 proceedings. Roused by the splash, he sat upright, and 

 watched Juan as he played the fish, now at the bow, aud 

 again at the very foot of the rock on which he was sitting. 

 The fish gave another leap, shook the hook from its mouth, 

 and was gone. It was tho turn of the native to ask ques- 

 tions, and he began with: 



"What d'yer dror 'm thru the water that way fur?" 



Juan turned and fiercely asked: "Who is doing this?" 



The native rested his chin on his hand, and made this 

 comment : 



"Yer can't ketch 'm that way." 



Juan's dark face glowed with anger, but he was silent. In 

 another minute we were each playing a bass, both of which 

 were landed. Two more were taken in, when the moun- 

 taineer began to show signs of excitement. He rose to his 

 feet and looked wildly about. Just then there was another 

 strike, and his stoicism gave way, and he disappeared in the 

 bushes. In a second he reappeared with a hickory pole, and 

 again seating himself, without a word, began fishing. In a 

 moment he flung a fine bass over his head into the~bushes. 

 Then from the water behind a rock he drew a long twig, 

 upon which were strung a dozen others, to which he added 

 the one just caught. There was a war dance in that boat 

 for a few minutes. Juan yelled in choice Spanish, ending 

 with something that sounded like "carrajo," and threw what 

 movable property there was in the boat at the head of the 

 silent angler. The rogue was fishing when we approached 

 the point, and fearing lest we might be attracted to his pre- 

 serves, had hidden his tackle and fish. That boy had in him 

 all the elements that go to make up a sportsman. With a 

 little experience, he would have made a capital guide. 



Whatever the place might resemble, we were soon satis- 

 fied that in the way of sport it was doomed to be a failure, 

 so after half an hour we moved out of the bay and halted 

 under the shelter of another island to try deeper water. 

 Here better success attended us, and after three hours, which 

 time was marked with many a goodly fight, we found our- 

 selves, in spite of frequent bailing, with wet feet and alto- 

 gether damp aud chilly. Our thoughts turned toward the 

 shelter and comfort of the camp. It was a dreary and cheer- 

 less pull homeward, with the rain driving into every exposed 

 place about us, and we crawled out at the landing thoroughly 

 numbed. Within the tent all was dry and warm. The fire 

 in the little camp stove was not yet out, and with some dry 

 wood added, was soon rolling out a grateful heat. The long 

 morning out had sharpened our appetites, but the coffee, 

 boiled fish, potatoes and hot shortcake, cooked and baked 

 on the camp stove, quickly made us satisfied with the world. 



Whatever of trouble there may be in carrying a camp 

 stove, a single day like the one we are describing, passed in 

 comfort, repays one a thousand times. Here let us describe 

 ours. It is a plain sheet-iron box, two feet ldng, and one 

 foot wide and high. A hearth and legs are inserted under 

 strips of the same material, which are riveted on the bottom. 

 A hinged door, through which a circular hole is cut for a 

 draft, is in one end. On the top near the back end is the 

 hole for the stovepipe, with a rim over which the same fits. 

 The latter consists of an upright length, an elbow and three 

 horizontal lengths. These are made with a taper so as to 

 slide one within another, and, except the elbow, all are car- 

 ried in the single upright length. This, with the elbow, 

 goes in the store, which will hold besides the hearth, legs, 

 coffee pot, and all the tinware required in camp with room 

 for extras. A heavy wire across ttie door end which, when 

 not in use, falls under the hearth, serves as a bail by which 

 it can be carried. The arrangement is light, can be shipped 

 in a barrel with blankets or other camp goods, and can be 

 set up in two minutes. A forked stick set in the ground 

 outside the tent door supports the pipe when the stove is in 

 use. While it is not intended for cooking, but to render the 

 tent comfortable in cold or stormy weather, yet a meal can 

 be easily cooked upon it if desirable in bad weather. When 

 not in use it is set outside the tent. With such an arrange- 

 ment a camp is perfect, and clothing, provisions and blank- 

 ets are insured against dampness. A small wooden box, 

 from which the bottom has been removed, can be slipped 

 over the pipe, and about this the tent flops can be closely 

 drawn without danger to them from the heat, and the tent 

 will thus be rendered as close as a house. This is often 

 desirable on a rainy night, when a few knots will keep the 

 tent warm without its becoming uncomfortably so. The above 

 is the only kind of camp stove which can be carried without 

 soiling everything with soot. Of course it will not do for a 

 canoeist, but for a camp it is the best we have seen. The 

 patent stove, from which the top lifts to allow the fire to be 

 replenished, fills the tent with smoke every time it is opened, 

 and is a poor contrivance. 



It is astonishing with what little preparation some people 

 will try the experiment of camping. We once came upon a 

 party which was undergoing the tribulations attendant a 

 cold northeast storm. They had abandoned their light and 

 leaky tent, and were gathered against a rock where they 

 were nursing a sputtering fire and regaling themselves on the 

 remnants of their last night's supper, As may be supposed, 

 they were unanimous in the resolve to never camp again. It 

 was not their first experience in camp, but was luckily the 

 first storm which they had encountered. We have seen par- 

 ties go out season after season with about the same prepara- 



tion they would make for a summer day's picnic, and get 

 back without having encountered more than a shower. At 

 last they try it once too often, and from that time their 

 camping days are at an end. However, these are usually of 

 the "all day piddely, piddely" sort, and are better off at 

 home. 



We sat the rest of the day bv the cheerful fire, extracting 

 no little pleasure from the last Fobest and Stream. Night 

 came on dark aud dismal. The thermometer on a tree in 

 front of the tent marked 54° F. The rain was steadily fall- 

 ing when we turned in, and we fell asleep with the sound of 

 the same patter, patter, in our ears which had greeted us 

 that morning. 



When the light again came through the tent the old rattle 

 was still sounding on the roof. After breakfast we tried the 

 fishing in the places of the day before, but without success, 

 and we came in damp and chilled. The day was spent in 

 writing and gossip. Steadily the rain drifted through the 

 trees and over the tent as daylight faded aud darkness came 

 on once more. Another morning the counterpart of the pre- 

 ceding came with the same drizzle and drip. 



The forenoon brought us a visitor, a little, short, stumpy, 

 gi-izzled old fellow, with a squint in one eye and a leer upon 

 his face, which when he spoke made one query whether he 

 was in earnest or only bent on guying the camp. He was 

 made welcome, and after seating himself and taking a liberal 

 bite of plug, during which operation he squinted about the 

 tent, he observed that "yous have run foul of a spell o' 

 weather," a proposition to which all assented. "It's bad 

 hay wether," he went on; "they wus hevin a moin' bee up 

 on Ike Dowels's flat, just afore the rain set in, an' I heerd 

 yisterday that it's all under; seed any ducks?" Someone 

 had seen five that morning. "It's quite a place fur 'cm," he 

 resumed, "an' used ter be for pigeons a little back of here. 

 One mornin', less see, it mus' be nigh on ter five and twenty 

 year ago, I hed a critter stray off an' I started to look 'er 

 up. 1 wus a goin' long the age of Dowel's medder wen I 

 seed a flock of pigeons skirtin' long the woods; pigeons wus 

 plenty in them days, an' I didn't watch 'em as I would now. 

 Bimeby long cum anuther flock an' anuther arter 'em, rite 

 over hed, an' then I begun to wish I'd brought my gun 

 along. Wile I wus thinkin' wat a shot it wus long cum lot 

 more rite clus by, an' I wus most reddy to swear cause 1 lef 

 the gun to hum. Then they begun to cum from all direc- 

 tions, acres an' acres of 'em till overbed was black with 'em, 

 an' I jes' swore, I did, boys, cause I was sich a dum fool as 

 to cum off without the gun. So I set down under a big dead 

 tree to look at 'em. Wal, they kep a comin' an' a com in', 

 millyuns an' millyuns uv 'em, an' at las the biggest flock I 

 ever did see lit in the tree I was a settin' under; they made 

 it black clear out to the ends of the lims. Gosh a mitey, I 

 never seed the like afore. I jess pulled up an' blazed rite 

 thru 'em 'th out takin' aim." The native rose in apparent 

 excitement, his chest heaved and his nostrils expanded; the 

 ai-dor of the sportsman was evidently upon him. "Grate 

 Jehosafax, how the}' cum down thru the lims. I picked up 

 mor'n — " "Hew did ye kill 'em, boss?" broke in the facto- 

 tum. "I wus loaded with No. 6 shot," calmly pursued the 

 old man with a squint at bis interrogator, "an' not to be in- 

 terruptin' ye— " "But," exploded Ins questioner, "ye been 

 tellin' us all long ye left yer gun to hum." 



"Did I? No I didn't, neither; an' wat if I did, consarn 

 yer, that wus anuther time I wus tellin' about. I kin prove 

 wat I say by old lise's uoy." 



"Well, how many did yer kill?" 



"It don't make no difference how many I kilt, as I knows 

 on, if yous ain't willin' to take a man's word furuuthin', an' 

 are goin' to ketch 'm up that way." and he strode off in a 

 state of indignation. 



Unwilling that our visitor should feel that the laws of hos- 

 pitality had been violated, we followed and interviewed him 

 under "the table fly. A generous dose of pain killer from 

 the Madame's medicine chest and a cigar restored him, and 

 the old leer upon his face asserted itself more distinctly 

 than ever. "You's on quite an island for porkypines, setd 

 any? No! Well, they won't hurt yer; but they're bad on a 

 dog wat tackles 'm. Why, they'll cum right inter yer tents, 

 they're so tame, an' they're good eatin', too. Las' summer 1 

 wus out 'n the bush with a lot of us fur a week or so, an' 

 one mornin' the dogs had one treed right by the shanty. 

 Wal' sur, the boys shot at that porkypine all the forenoon, 

 an' couldn't fetch 'm outer that tree, an' at las' I got tired of 

 the noise, an' knocked 'in outer the tree with a club, an' 

 kilt an' skinned 'm an' cooked 'm in the wash tub, 1 did sur, 

 be gob." 



To the evident disappointment of the old man, we waived 

 a cross-examination; his sidelong squint was too inviting, 

 and we soon saw him to his boat and off. When he was out 

 of earshot, the factotum soliloquized: " 'f he wan'tso cussed 

 ugly, I'd liked to ask 'in how they cum to have a wash tub 

 in camp, an' I wonder how they could cook in one, anyhow." 

 Perhaps no one will ever find out. 



Swish came the rain at intervals through the afternoon 

 and until bed time, and after that as we turned on our buuks, 

 we could hear the sharp rattle going on, and we began to 

 wonder how lone it was going to last. 



The next morning a patch o'f sunlight was dancing on the 

 roof, the leaves were rustling in the fresh breeze, our mimic 

 lake' before the tent had disappeared, and the cloudless sky 

 above told us that we were through with the "spell o' 

 weather." W awayanpa. 



Columbia Cotjntv Gun and Rod Club.— The Gun aud 

 Rod Club of Columbia county, N. Y., recently elected these 

 officers: President, Jonathan Bixby, Hudson; Vice-Presi- 

 dent, Philip H. Sheldon, Hudson; Secretary, William H. 

 Hart, Hudson; Treasurer, Luther Shale, Greenport; Direct- 

 ors, Henry DuBois, Livingston; Grosvenor B. Ross man, 

 An'cram- Henry Feroe, Hudson. Attorneys, Henry Miller, 

 Hudson; Charles M. Bell, Hillsdale; C. F. T. Beale, Hudson. 

 Legislative Committee, Dr. Wm. H.Hart, Hudson; Stephen 

 W^Harc. Hudson; Milton Shaurman, Gallatin; Peter S. 

 Pulver, Claverack; William Dinehart, Copake; Peter Brusie, 

 Hudson. The secretary was directed to cause the new laws 

 to be printed and posted throughout the county, and to re- 

 port to the club any violations that might be presented to 

 him. The annual meeting will be held Feb. 5. 



Woodduck Feathees. — Editor Forest and Stream: Can 

 vou or any of your readers inform me as to where I can 

 obtain some of the barred and spotted feathers from the sides 

 of the woodduck? I should like to get them at once, and 

 will be much obliged to any one who will give me the infor- 

 mation at the address below.— F. Satterthwaite (2 West 

 Park street, Newark, N. J.). [John Wallace, 16 North 

 William street, may be able to put you on the track of what 

 you want.] 



