226 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Oct. 15, 1&P5 



storm. It rained three days aud nights, and "the river" 

 (Juniata river size) rose eleven feet in one night. The hottom 

 lands were all submerged, and on the spots left ont of the 

 flood, thousands of rabbits and quail huddled together for 

 safety. The trees which seemed sinking out of sight were 

 alive with quail. Tliere they perched until hunger made 

 them too weak to hold on, and they fell dead into the water 

 beneath. On one island of two acres I saw over one hundred 

 rabbits. The roads became impassable. A section ol five 

 miles of the "narrow-gauge" was washed away. Millions of 

 bushels of corn were lost. The cornfields were alive with 

 ducks for two days until warmer w^eather drove them north. 

 The loss of crops to the "bottom" farmers was immense. 

 They tried husking corn into dug-outs. I saw one old 

 fellow attempt to cross a creek, where the water was sixteen 

 feet deep, iu a dug-out canoe. It was only one inch out of 

 water, lie sat on a heap of rescued com paddling. I said, 

 "Say, old pard, if the river rises much more before you 

 land you are gone." He did not answer, for at that moment 

 he quietly sank out of sight. The water had "riz" an inch 

 while I was speaking. I merely mention this to show news- 

 paper reporters how to impress upon the public the quick- 

 ness with which the rivers can rise in the wild West during 

 periods of overflows. Hundreds of families fled from the 

 flood. Chickens mostly roosted on chimney tops. "Hogs 

 has the cholere," was heard on all sides. The whole country 

 was transformed into a sea and remained so for several 

 weeks. I frequently asked the inhabitants if they had seen 

 anything of ISIoah, but thej^ said that was not funny when 

 people were being drowned out, so I gave them a rest, as I 

 will also do my readers. Chopsticks. 



CAMPS IN THE WILDERNESS. 



IT was Sept. 28, and once more 1 was afloat on the grand 

 old Umbagog Lake, this time in a forty-five-pound canoe 

 capable of carrying a weight of five hundred pounds. A light 

 breeze had rippled the surface of the lake just sufficiently to 

 impart an exhilarating motion to the canoe, and it was with 

 the feeling of grasping the hand of an old friend that the 

 paddle was taken up. 



For the first time in my camping-out experience in the 

 wild woods of Maine, I started out 'alone, and it was not 

 without a feeling of lonesomeness that the first dip of the 

 puddle was made on the trip to the upper waters of the 

 Magalloway. 



By noon I had crossed the lake and pushed up the Magal- 

 loway to Pulpit Rock. The ministrations of the passing 

 seasons make slight impressions on the old pulpit, aud the 

 rock and surroundings had a rugged, homelike welcome to 

 the lone paddler. The previous year a companion had been 

 present to break a fast at this spot, which had been the scene 

 of many a noonday lunch on our annual trips to the Magal- 

 loway. At 5 in the afternoon the canoe was drawn ashore 

 at the mouth of the Diamond, and a cheery greeting was 

 received from Uncle Peter Bennett and his family. If one 

 has ever iiaddled sdme thirty odd miles against wind and 

 c\m'ent he can appreciate the feelings with which I wel- 

 comed Uncle Peter's generous bounty. 



During the evening neighbors di-opped in, and many a sly 

 note was taken from the stones related of camping and hxmt- 

 ing experiences. Uncle Peter told of how once in his youth- 

 ful days he was out moose hunting with Jack , They 



had followed the track of the moose for many miles, occas- 

 ionally coming in sight of the animal and within rifle shot, 

 but they did not propose to pack that moose meat any 

 further than was necessary, but as Uncle Peter expressed it, 

 to "let it do its own packing." The scheme was to follow 

 the moose until he should be somewhere near the river, and 

 there dispatch him. They would sometimes get so near that 

 the moose would turn on them, but if they stopped he would 

 again move on, and at times he was entirely out of sight. 

 Finally the word was given and his "pard" fired. The 

 moose turned, Uncle Peter had his eye on him, and "where 

 he could put in where he wanted to, ouhitched and brought 

 him down." But where was Jack? ISTowhere in sight. 

 Looking up, however, he was discovered in a tree some 

 twenty-five feet from the ground, hanging on for dear life, 

 his snowshoes dangling in the air. The instant he had fired 

 the rifle was dropped and he had shinned up the nearest tree. 

 Uncle Peter, meantime, had been so intent on the game that 

 he had not noticed the maneuver. 



Monday morning, after a couple of hours paddling, the 

 upper settlement hove in sight. Made the canoe fast to an 

 overhanging tree, and then, Avith wading boots drawn on, 

 set ofl: for Clark's farm, where Walter Buckman, the guide, 

 was expected. After dinner the canoe, camp toggery and 

 provisions were hauled over the carry two and a half miles 

 to the head of Escohos Falls. Here we met a party coming 

 out, and evidently they were slightly out of humor, tired 

 out, no doubt, and perhaps disgusted with their luck. With 

 considerable scolding on the pait of one, and a free inter- 

 change of doubtful compliments among the others, they 

 made their way to the foot ol the falls. Our guide took in 

 the situation and asked, "What will you sell out for?" You 

 may just rest assured that these blankets which resulted 

 from the dicker were decidedly accepi able on succeeding 

 cold nights when the mercury fell below freezing. 



"We will have an early breakfast, and if you are not too 

 much of a tenderfoot, can camp at the catnip beds to-morrow 

 night," insinuated the guide. We saw the early dawn of 

 Tuesday. Loading up the canoe and boat (to which Walton 

 had given a liberal coating of pitch) not forgetting to look 

 about to see that nothing was left, the fleet struck. It was 

 a pretty sight, and a surprise to many of the lumbermen as- 

 unsuspected we noiselessly glided within paddle's length of 

 them as they were busily engaged on the banks. We stopped 

 at many places along the river, and ate our noonday lunch 

 at Hunter's Camp, so-called, though nothing but the camp 

 ground now remains, the camp having been burned by some 

 careless lumberman. This spot recalled several pleasant 

 nights spent in the camp some four years ago. Two miles 

 above here we met JST. C. Natting, M.D., F. G. Perry, of 

 Concord, Is. H., and F. E. Shaw, of Brocton, Mass., camp- 

 ing at Lewis's Camp, on Lower Metalhc Pond, and we were 

 heartily welcomed and invited to come often. "Just quarter 

 past three by the right time," remarked Walton, glancing at 

 a wheezy old Waterbury relic; and we have struck the cat- 

 nip beds. Not a had day's work for single paddles. 



Did you ever sleep on a bed of hemlock boughs? Not one 

 of your rough-and-tumble affairs, half saw-logs aud stumps, 

 but made in this fashion : Place a six inch log at the head, 

 smooth ofl' the ground and grub up all stubs aud sticks. 

 Collect the boughs and break off the tips— be careful not to 

 put in anything else— then commence at the head and place 

 the boughs, tops up and the points or stubs down, the 

 boughs to incline back and resting on the log. After laying 



one course continue by laying others, always commencing at 

 the ends and working" across." You can make a good bed in 

 one hour's time, and the time is well spent. It is the most 

 important feature of a pleasant camp in the woods to have a 

 good bed, and yet how few pay prouer attention to the mat- 

 ter. Should the bed become hard after a few nights, place 

 another layer of boughs on top. The beauty of this bed is it 

 keeps you from the ground, is springy, and the hemlock odor 

 is healthful. Always select a spot that inclines downward 

 considerably. A foot log should be placed where the last 

 course of boughs had been placed, the log to rest on the ends 

 or stubs. This will keep the boughs in place at the bottom 

 and also serve as a foot rest. There are many who contem- 

 plate ii trip to tlie woods for the first lime and who arc nl- 

 ways glad to learn, and for the benefit of such 1 htive been 

 thus explicit. Such a bed we prepared, and tliat Tuesday 

 night slept the sleep of one at peace with mankind. Tlia"t 

 evening jilans were laid for future movements, aud an early 

 start for upper Metallic in the morning agreed uper. 



"Wake up, boss, and get around .some of this partridge 

 stew; make you feel like a fighting cock." Thus saith the 

 guide,- and we had too some coffee strong enough to stand 

 alone. Getting the shooting irons in readiness and launch- 

 ing the feather-like canoe^ we shot out for game. Game 

 must be had, and something worth talking about. Carefully 

 and silently paddling along, we had not long to wait before 

 a deer was seen to take to the water some distance up, and 

 leisurely swim to the opposite shore. Shoot of course we 

 did. and scored a clean miss. This served to drop our spirits 

 to about ten degrees below zero. 



An hour's paddling brought us to Upper Metallic. Hiding 

 the canoe, bottom up, in the tall grass, and shouldering the 

 rifles we took the trail leading to Lincoln Pond, some three 

 miles from the river. Walter pushed on ahead, while the 

 rear guard leisurely tramped along, taking several partridges. 

 These, together with pair of duclcs shot on Upper Metallic, 

 and roasted over a bed of coals, with tea made in our pint 

 dipper, served with half of an onion as dessert, made up the 

 bill of fare for a lunch at the pond. The s;uide remarked, 

 "To-night we will have a regular lay out." Thus we spent 

 many pleasant days in tramping through the woods, and 

 canoeing on the river and adjacent ponds. Several trips 

 were made to this little sheet of water during our stay in 

 camp, and the canoe played an important part in making 

 the visits more interesting. 



"Perhaps you would like to hear of a little adventure I had 

 several years ago in a forced trip to Lincoln Pond," said the 

 guide as we sat around the camp-fire that evening. "I was 

 about fifteen years old, when, late in November, in company 

 with my pard, I came up river one clear but cold day from 

 gramp's [grandfather's], bound for Parmachenee. We pad- 

 dled lively and put up at Spoff Flint's camp on Parmachenee 

 carry that night. The weather grew cold, and, finding a 

 young chap some seventeen years old at the camp who 

 wanted to get down to the settlement the next day, we put 

 our heads together and arranged to take him down. Well, 

 the chap was from Massachusetts and he had the notion that 

 he could come up here and get lots of money and have a 

 big time trapping. He had been here about a week and 

 wanted to get home bad. All three of us started late on the 

 following day and came down through the quick water in a 

 hurry, but soon struck ice too thick to break through. It 

 was getting late and we had but one partridge for food. You 

 see, we had expected to reach the settlement that night, but 

 there was no use trying for that. We did not know the 

 direct route back to Spoff's camp by land, but we did know 

 the trail over to Lincoln Pond and from that place to Spofi"s 

 camp ; besides, there was a camp at the pond where we 

 could at least have a shelter. Leaving the boat, we started, 

 but had not gone far before the city chap showed signs of 

 petering out, and before long he wanted to lie down in his 

 tracks. It was tough, I know, but the cold had increased 

 and I knew that we must get him along somehow ; so my 

 pard carried his duds and we cut switches and switched him 

 along. He would lie down, but we would pull him up aud 

 cuff" him, and even raised our foot sometimes to help him 

 along. Never saw such a darn fool, but then he was such a 

 thundering tenderfoot that he could not help it. We reached 

 Lincoln Pond and found a camp where we roasted the part- 

 ridge, and tell you what, boss, between as there was hardly 

 a feather left. 



"We slept spoon fashion that night with the city chap in 

 the middle and managed to keep him alive. Next morning 

 as soon as it was ligiit, we took the trail to Spoff's camp — 

 where we had started from the day before — distance seven 

 miles. It was a tough pull for the 'young trapper,' but by 

 dint of cuffing and switching, witli an occasional internal 

 apphcation of raw whisky, we managad to reach Spoff's, 

 but when we finally struck the camp he fainted clean away. 

 Tell you what, my pard and I wanted something more than 

 a faint — grub we must have. While the rest worked over 

 the i^oung fellow, we got hold of some cold venison and 

 worked it into our .system lively. Better warmed up? Per- 

 haps so, but we couldn't wait for that; let it warm up after 

 getting down." 



Having finished his story, the guide laid more sticks on 

 the camp-fire, and drawing the blankets over us, we lay 

 down, lulled to sleep by the moan of the fii- trees and the 

 rustle of dry leaves in the crisp October breezes, occasionally 

 startled by the snapping of dry twigs as some wild animal 

 made its way to the spring for water. 



Early on the morning of Saturday, the 11th of October, 

 1884, we made an early start, bound for Parmachenee. 

 Found our friends, previously referred to, in camp above 

 Upper Metallic. They were unusually happy, having a 

 good-,sized buck hung up in camp, which had been killed 

 the day before. Good shots, too, judging from the two 

 bullet holes just b.^hind the shoulder, not two inches apart. 

 Pushing on the guide made some not very faint remarks 

 about a weak stomach, but we managed to get along until 

 we reached an abandoned camp on the Parmachenee Carry, 

 called Lundy Pond Camp. 



On our way up river we met a party consisting of Henry 

 Chase and wife, William Durkey, wife, and their four- 

 year-old sou. They had been on a regular camping aud 

 sporting trip, the ladies being as fully enthusiastic as the 

 geiitlemen. They had been very successful, the spoils of the 

 hunt, together with equipments, making a heavy load to 

 work over the shoal places so frequent on the Upper Magal- 

 loway. 



Ten minutes after the guide got into camp he had a roar- 

 ing fire in the mongrel stove, and had bread mixed ready to 

 l>ut into the oven. In less than an hour he had prepared aud 

 set on the table the following spread: Fried parti-idge, hot 

 bread, fried potatoes, and tea, together with canned cherries 

 aud milk, a feast fit for a king. An hour's sitting wore away 

 the keener edge of our appetite, and while the guide busied 



himself m singing and imitating the cry of almost every 

 animal we have any knowledge of, the scribe got out the 

 field glass, and after taking in the situation, settled down 

 to his notes and memoranda, until gathering darkness re- 

 minded us of the necessity of illumination. We had neglected 

 to bring candles or lamps from our home camp, but the 

 guide manufactured one out of pork fat and rags. 



The pattering of the rain on the thin roof above us dis- 

 turbed our Sunday morning nap, and investigation showed 

 that the prospects were for more. We decided to take a 

 stroll to Parmachenee, and if our provisions held out to stop 

 another night at the camp before going down river. A good 

 shelter from the rain with a cooking .stove thrown in is" not 

 to bo despised when in the wikl woods. Thus far the supply 

 of small game had been abundant, and we hoped for more. 

 With rifle and shotgun in hand, a three-mile tramp in the 

 cold rain brought us to the foot of Parmachenee Lake. Plere, 

 in a lumberman's hut, a fire was soon kindled, lighting up 

 the dripping logs of which the hut was made and gleaming 

 on the faces of two rather damp stragglers bent over the 

 blaze busily engaged ia preparing a meaf that, as the guide 

 expressed it, would make us as hairy as Esau, adding that 

 such food was the stuff to make men (>f. Salt pork, fried 

 potatoes, and last but not least, four good thick slices of 

 venison steak, done to fit the weak stomach and accom- 

 panied with Sampson tea. We returned to Lunday Pond 

 Camp for the night. 



On the following morning with a clear sky, but somewhat 

 colder air, all hands were ordered out, packs were arranged, 

 and in a short time we were on the wing for our home camp 

 at the Catnip Beds, .some ten miles below. "There's a right 

 smart chance for more wet," remarked the guide, "and we 

 would best hump along and try for camp before that cloud 

 lets out on us.-" But it was of no use, down came the rain in 

 bucketfuls, the wind blowing strong enough to drive us up 

 river against a strong current. In the midst of it a couple 

 of ducks came within gunshot, and the guide pulled the gun 

 from under the covering and brought down one, dropping it 

 within ten feet of the boat. "Good shot, considering," he 

 remarked, as he picked up the duck, "sort of fill up the 

 chinks at dinner time." The tempest was short but .severe, 

 toppling over many old monarchs of the forest, and the 

 crashing and grinding of these, mingled with the sharp 

 lightnmg and heavy thunder was terrific and grand. Here 

 among the rugged hills and mountains the thunder had Iree 

 play, and the heavy peals seemed to gather fury and force 

 as they echoed from crag to peak, and broke out above our 

 heads. Stopping at our friends' camp we found them busily 

 engaged repairing the damage done by the storm. Their 

 boat had floated away in the night and the Doc took passage 

 with us to hunt it up. Found our camp in good order. 

 "All dry." remarked the guide, as he stepped inside the tent, 

 "guess that slumgullion does the business." The tent had 

 a coat of parafiue and then a warm iron applied to drive it 

 into the cloth. 



The following morning we broke camp. It was rather a 

 cold, dull day, and snow squalls were frequent. Stopping 

 at Clark's farm, on Escohos Carry, for the night, and taking 

 in two square feasts, we were in fighting trim for a long 

 paddle next day. lieaving the upper settlement during 

 the forenoon, and dining with Uncle Petei' Bennett at the 

 mouth of the Diamond, where we cast off our camp cloth- 

 ing, and reaching Ewel Dam Uiat night, completed the day's 

 doings. 



The canoe used on this trip was huilt to order by Messrs. 

 Joyner & Sons, Glens Falls, N. Y, The dimensions are: 

 Length, 14ft. ; beam, 34in. ; depth at center, lliu.; dcjitli at 

 bow and stern, 21in. ; and, as before mentioned, weight, 

 4olbs., and is capable of carrying a burden of 5001 bs. I t is 

 built smooth, not lapstreak, which to our mind is much the 

 best; no paint, but finished in oil and varnish. The joints 

 are peculiar to this make, and lap some seven eighths of an 

 inch. Although the boat was transported from Glens Falls 

 to Umbogog, some three hundred miles, in July, and not put 

 into the water till October, not a single leak was discovered ; 

 in fact the canoe proved perfectly satisfactory in every par- 

 ticular. KOHOG. 



A MAGAZINE RIFLE ACCIDENT. 



Editor Fored and Stream: 



Some two weeks since I was hunting squirrels at Clyde, 

 N. Y. and met with an accident which happily was confined 

 to the loss of one finger and a few days' inflammation of the 

 eyes. As near as can be stated the particulars are these: 



I was using my favorite rifle — Winchester .;!M-caliLier — 

 with which I have tired over 17,000 shots, and a cartridge ex- 

 ploded while being pressed in the chamber. An assistant 

 had reloaded my cartridges and this one had its bullet pressed 

 so far in the cartridge that its length was shortened by a 

 quarter of an inch. This cartridge was placed iu the maga- 

 zine and Avhen I attempted to elevate it into the chamber the 

 bullet (what was exposed to view) passed in the chamber, 

 but the end of the shell caught on the upper side of the 

 chamber and would not enter. At this instant I was watch- 

 ing a squirrel in the top of a tall tree aud my eyes were there- 

 fore turned upward and at arm's length from "the gun. The 

 lever not going back the middle finger of the left hand was 

 utilized to pu.sh the end of the cartridge down and pulling 

 gently at the time with the right hand on the lever upward. 

 This is all I can remember of Oct. 1. The cartridge exploded 

 on its upper side, tearing off the middlefinger at the third j oint 

 and badly lacerating the adjoining ones. My eyes, although 

 turned upward, as stated, were literally filled with powder, 

 many grains firmly imbedding themselves in the corners. 

 My eyesight, which was feared to be lost or permanently 

 injm-ed at the time, is unimpaired, and at this writing my 

 eyes are apparently well. 



Upon examination of the cartridge it was found to have 

 entered the chamber three-quarters of its length, with a large 

 hole on its upper side corresponding to that portion which 

 was out of the chamber. It wag split in two the entire length 

 of the cartridge. The primer had been properly pushed 

 down, and the hammer had made the usual indenture found 

 in them after firing. How the hammer became unlocked 

 before the lever was fully up against the stock, or if it were 

 locked at all, I cannot say. It did not injure the gun, and 

 the action of the hammer and lever is as "perfect as any of 

 its kind. Other cartridges were in the magazine at the time 

 and did not explode them, as was reported by several West- 

 ern New York papers. 



I send these facts to warn your readers, or caution them 

 perhaps, against using cartridges not properly reloaded; and 

 it is my judgment any cartridge is entitled to a certain 

 amount of respect, and should b'e handled accoi diugly. If 

 any of your readers know of similar explosions or any pre- 

 mature explosion of a cartridge I should like to know the 

 particulars, to be able to avoid such an accident if possible. 



